"Your friends be calling you a lot," he said one night, glancing at my phone as it lit up again.
"They always do," I shrugged.
"You gonna answer?"
I hesitated. Just for a second.
Then I flipped my phone over.
"I'll call them later."
He nodded slowly, like he expected that answer.
"Yeah... you always say that."
I didn't catch it right away.
Didn't catch the tone.
Didn't catch the pattern starting to form.
All I knew was...
I wasn't moving the same anymore.
And I didn't even question why.
It started with questions.
Small ones. Casual. Easy to answer without thinking too much about them.
"Who was that?"
"How long you known her?"
"You ever deal with him like that before?"
At first, I didn't mind.
It felt normal.
People ask questions when they care, right?
But then it became... consistent.
Not just asking-but asking again.
Same names. Same situations. Same tone that sounded calm... but didn't feel like it underneath.
One night, he reached for my phone before I could.
Not fast. Not aggressive. Just... like it belonged to him.
I looked at him.
"What are you doing?"
He barely glanced up. "Relax."
"I am relaxed," I said, reaching for it. "I just asked you a question."
He handed it back, but his expression didn't change.
"You act like you got something to hide."
That hit wrong.
I frowned. "I don't."
"Then why you so defensive?"
I opened my mouth to respond...
"Do you think I'm cheating or something?"
He didn't answer right away. Just stared at me like he was deciding how to respond.
I sat up a little straighter.
"Because I'm trying to understand what's going on here," I continued. "What am I doing that's making you question me like this all the time?"
His jaw tightened slightly.
"I didn't say you were cheating."
"But you're acting like it," I shot back.
A pause.
Then that same calm tone.
"You getting real defensive over a question."
I blinked at him.
"What? I'm asking you a question."
"And I'm asking you one," he replied. "Why does it bother you so much?"
And just like that...
the conversation shifted.
After that... I sat with it longer than I should have.
Not the question itself-
but the way it turned.
Because I went into that conversation trying to understand him...
and somehow walked out of it feeling like I had something to explain.
I replayed it in my head more than once.
What I said.
How I said it.
The way he looked at me when I pushed back.
Did I sound defensive?
The thought came out of nowhere.
Uninvited.
And I hated it immediately.
Because that wasn't me.
I didn't question myself like that.
I didn't second-guess my tone or my reactions over something that didn't even make sense to begin with.
But now...
I was.
I sat there staring at my phone, the same one he had just questioned me over, and for the first time, it didn't feel like mine.
It felt like something I had to be careful with.
Something I had to explain.
And I didn't like that feeling.
Not at all.
But instead of calling it what it was...
I told myself it wasn't that deep.
That maybe he was just overthinking.
That maybe I was reading into it too much.
That maybe...
I just needed to handle it better.
And that's how it started.
Not with control.
Not with rules.
But with me...
adjusting.
The first real argument didn't even start over anything serious.
That's what made it worse.
I was getting ready to head out-nothing crazy, just linking up with a couple friends I hadn't seen in a while. Something normal. Something I would've done without thinking twice before he came into my life.
"You going out?" he asked from across the room, his tone flat.
"Yeah," I said, grabbing my bag. "I told you earlier."
"I thought that was just talk."
I paused.
"What?"
He stood up slowly, eyes locked on me now.
"You always got somewhere to be," he said. "Like you can't just sit still for one night."
I let out a small breath, already feeling the tension building.
"I'm just going out for a few hours. It's not that serious."
He shook his head slightly, like I missed something obvious.
"It's not about serious. It's about respect."
That made me turn fully toward him.
"Respect?"
"Yeah," he said, stepping a little closer. "When you're with somebody, you don't move like you're still single."
That hit wrong.
"I'm not moving single," I snapped. "I'm going out with my friends."
"And I'm telling you I don't like that," he replied, voice still calm... but tighter now.
I stared at him.
"You don't like it?"
"Yeah."
For a second...
I didn't even know how to respond.
Because that wasn't a conversation.
That was a statement.
And something about it felt different.
Like this wasn't about how he felt anymore...
It was about what he expected.
"I'm not about to argue with you over going out," I said, trying to keep my tone even.
Because in my head, this wasn't something that needed to turn into anything bigger than it was.
But he didn't drop it.
"You don't think that's a problem?" he asked, eyes still locked on me.
"A problem?" I repeated. "No. I don't."
He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head like I was missing something obvious.
"That's crazy," he muttered.
"What's crazy?"
"That you don't see how that looks," he said, voice still calm-but there was something under it now. Something tighter.
"You going out, being around whoever, doing whatever... like you don't have somebody at home."
I stared at him, disbelief creeping in.
"I do have somebody," I said. "That doesn't mean I stop living my life."
"That's not what I said."
"That's exactly what it sounds like," I shot back.
A pause.
Then he stepped closer.
Not aggressive.
But close enough to shift the space again.
"You making it sound like I'm controlling you," he said quietly.
I blinked.
Because that wasn't what I said.
"I didn't say that," I replied.
"But that's what you're implying," he pressed. "Like I'm telling you what to do. I'm just telling you what I'm comfortable with."
And there it was.
Not a demand.
Not an order.
A boundary.
At least...
that's how he framed it.
Lunch was supposed to feel normal.
Light. Easy. Something familiar.
I was sitting across from one of my closest friends, her hand stretched across the table while she talked a mile a minute, practically glowing.
"I'm not even gonna lie," she said, laughing, "I knew he was gonna propose. I just didn't think it would be this soon."
Her boyfriend sat beside her, smiling like he already knew she was about to tell the whole story anyway.
"You don't understand," she continued, turning back to me. "He really planned it. Like... candles, music, the whole thing. I cried, I'm not even gonna act like I didn't."
I smiled, leaning back in my seat.
"Okay, so when's the wedding?"
She gasped dramatically. "Relax! I just got the ring!"
We all laughed.
And for a moment...
it felt like me again.
Normal.
Then my phone buzzed.
I glanced down at it.
Marcus.
I didn't open it.
Didn't even slide it fully across the screen.
Just enough to see the preview.
Where you at?
I flipped my phone over like it didn't matter.
"What?" my friend asked, catching the movement.
"Nothing," I shrugged. "Just him."
She gave me a look-but didn't press.
The conversation picked back up, but something had already shifted.
Not around the table...
Inside me.
My phone buzzed again.
Then again.
I didn't pick it up.
I told myself I didn't need to.
That I was out.
That I was allowed to be out.
That I didn't owe him a play-by-play of my every move.
But still...
I could feel it.
That pull.
That pressure sitting in the back of my mind, making it harder to stay fully in the moment.
"Girl, you good?" my friend asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Yeah," I said quickly. "I'm fine."
And I meant it.
At least...
I was trying to.
So I left it.
Didn't respond.
Didn't open the message fully.
Because in my head...
that mattered.
That meant something.
That meant I could say later-
"I didn't even see it."
By the time I got home, it was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that didn't feel empty...
it felt waiting.
I closed the door behind me slowly, keys still in my hand.
"You had fun?"
His voice came out of nowhere.
I turned.
He was sitting there.
Calm.
Still.
Watching me.
"Yeah," I said, keeping my tone even. "It was just lunch."
He nodded once.
Slow.
"With who?"
I blinked.
"My friend... and her boyfriend. I told you-"
"Yeah," he cut in.
"I know."
Something about the way he said that made my stomach drop.
"I saw you."
The words didn't hit right away.
"What?"
"I saw you," he repeated, leaning forward slightly.
"Outside the restaurant."
My chest tightened instantly.
"What are you talking about?"
"I was sitting outside," he said, like it was nothing. "Watching."
Silence.
"You looked real comfortable," he continued.
"Laughing. Smiling. Ignoring your phone."
My grip tightened around my keys.
"I didn't-"
"You didn't what?" he snapped, the calm cracking just enough.
"Didn't see my message? Or didn't want to answer because you were too busy entertaining him?"
"That's not what happened," I said, my voice sharper now.
"Then what happened?" Marcus pressed, his voice tighter now, sharper than before.
"I was at lunch," I snapped. "With my friend and her man. That's it."
"That's it?" he repeated, like the words didn't make sense to him.
"Yes. That's it."
He let out a short laugh, shaking his head.
"You really think I'm stupid, huh?"
I blinked at him.
"Excuse me?"
"I watched you," he said, standing up now.
"Sat there and watched you ignore your phone like it didn't matter."
"I didn't ignore-"
"You didn't see it?" he cut in.
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
And that was enough.
"There it is," he said, stepping closer. "That little pause. That's what I'm talking about."
"You're reaching," I snapped, my voice rising now. "I was in the middle of a conversation. I'm not about to sit there texting while I'm out with people."
"With him," Marcus shot back.
My stomach turned.
"There is no him," I said, my tone sharper now. "You're making something out of nothing."
"Nothing?" he repeated, his voice lifting now.
"You sitting there smiling in his face, ignoring me, and that's nothing?"
"That's my friend's boyfriend!"
"I don't give a fuck who he is," Marcus snapped.
Silence hit the room for a split second.
Then I laughed.
Not because it was funny-
but because I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"You sound crazy right now," I said.
And that's when it happened.
His hand shot out, grabbing my arm tight enough to stop me mid-step.
Not playful.
Not accidental.
Tight.
Too tight.
My breath caught instantly.