“Doesn’t explain why I sought a relationship with Advik back then,” I’d muttered, trying to poke a hole in her theory.
She smiled, unbothered.
“Actually, that’s the one time you had closure. That assignment had ended. You were finally in a position to make a choice. And you chose something that resembled peace.”
“Resembled? So it wasn’t?” I asked, hesitant.
“It resembled the life you wanted because it gave you control over at least...onepart of it. But you didn’t quit the force. You only... paused it. Why do you think that was?”
I frowned.
“Because I—I wasn’t confident enough to believe it was happening. The life I’d imagined. Itlookedlike it. But it didn’t...feellike it.”
She nodded with quiet understanding.
“Probably because you were still clutching the backup plan. And I’m not blaming your need for a Plan B. I’m saying you didn’t trust the moment. Because time and again, you’ve been failed by the moment, haven’t you?”
I remember it so clearly. The breath I let out—shaky and exhausted. Like the truth had been lying dormant in my lungs, waiting for someone to name it.
“Fucking hell,” I’d muttered, slumping in the chair. “I get it. My parents were murdered—loss of control. The orphanage? Another. My parents’ families—more betrayal. At eighteen, I couldn’t stop their attack. Couldn’t even scream. Loss of control again.”
I blinked, eyes welling up. I’d been so far down the rabbit hole that I finally saw the full picture.
The only time I ever felt in control was when I was being trained. When I was recruited. And even that? Wasn’t my choice. It was an illusion. The confidence RAW gave me? Imistookthat for control.
So when real life showed up... when Advik gave me love, I clutched it with one hand. But the other? The other still held the damn gun.
Why? Why the fuck did I do that?
She must’ve seen it—this war unraveling in my head.
“Because you don’t trust easily. People failed you. Your parents. Their families. RAW, to some extent. Even Advik failed you. You couldn’t control his closeness to the... other woman. So you ran. You bailed. Before he could prove you wrong—or right.”
An uneven breath escaped me. My life—boxed into a behavioral pattern. A timeline of highs and lows, every turn shaped by control, or the lack of it.
I don’t trust.
I tried. And I failed.
“You exhibit subtle signs of obsessive-compulsive behavior, paired with traits common to paranoid personality disorder,” she said gently, clearly. “This isn’t a diagnosis—not yet. We’ll need more information and tests.”
Then she added what I think will stay with me for a long time:
“But I can tell you this—if you want to create space for trust, you’ll need to grieve the illusion of control. You’ll need to allow for uncertainty. Not everything can be wrestled into obedience, Greesha. And maybe—just maybe—you’ll learn that people can still stay... even when you stop trying to predict their exit.”
??????
That is what started the game of hide and seek. Almost eight months ago. I wanted to see if I could free myself of control. I let go of the idolized picture I had painted for my life. Instead, Ibuiltit.
I didn’t imagine it anymore. I created it for myself.
I feared loss of control, right? And so the fact that I was a teetotaler was a fear I clutched onto. I let it go. I started small. Started with wine.
When I knew my tolerance—I sustained it. Never pushed it. Then I built the confidence to actually test myself in bars. Restaurants. It worked. I was... surprisinglyokay.
The second thing I did was lack of a home. I never had one, save for the time I thought Advik’s place could be one. I put a portion of my savings for a small apartment. I built the homeliness of it.
That’s when I discovered that my imagined peace was truly a dream that hadn’t matured with me.
