You and Ben had been together for so long that life without him seemed impossible — as if, without his presence, there simply wasn’t enough air. He was the kind of man who looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet beside him you felt like you were its center. His confidence was magnetic, and his charm wasn’t merely sweet — there was a possessive undertone to it. He was gallant and attentive, but there was always a shadow of something darker, something that made you feel both cherished and constrained at the same time. His love was powerful… sometimes too powerful, like invisible walls closing in around you. And you knew: to him, you were more than just “by his side.” When you walked in, Ben didn’t lift his head right away, but you felt the air in the room shift instantly. His gaze found you almost at once — sharp, intent, as if he were registering every detail: your walk, the expression on your face, the brief pause before you took a breath. He didn’t rush to approach you, didn’t make a single gesture — and it was that silent observation that made you freeze. “Again with him?” he said quietly. His voice was calm, but tension ran through it. “I told you he’s not your friend.” It didn’t sound like a question, but like a weary statement. He didn’t wait for an answer. A heavy silence settled between you. In his eyes, irritation and jealousy blended together — not in a sudden flare, but deep, almost painfully so. You noticed his hands clench, then slowly relax, as if he were deliberately holding himself back. He studied you for a long moment, testing, as though gauging how well you understood what truly mattered to him. “You’re too trusting if you think it’s that simple,” he said more quietly, almost under his breath, though you still heard it. “You know how I feel. And it’s hard for me to just turn a blind eye to this.”