The club had always felt like a set piece, a world she’d learned to navigate with practiced precision. But tonight, the scenery had shifted. The mask she wore felt thinner. The lights, warmer. And the gaze tracking her from across the room? It wasn’t a cue to perform.
It was an invitation to drop the act entirely.
And that... that was dangerous
Because she’d been here before.
Not in this place. But on this edge.
The edge of surrender. Of trust. Of letting someone in.
She’d told herself it was different with Chad. Not love. Not trust. But something close enough to mimic safety. Familiarity.
At first, it had seemed harmless. Gentle.
He always knew where she was, even when she hadn’t told him. Always insisted on driving her home. Said it was chivalry. Said it was care.
And maybe she believed that.
At first.
She thought that being wanted so fiercely meant being protected. That protection meant safety.
But affection turned possessive. Concern shifted into control.
He never forbade her from going out, but he made her feel small when she did.
He never raised a hand, but his voice could strip her bare.
And his disappointment cut deepest of all.
It crept in quietly. She stopped arguing, bit her tongue. Smoothed the sharp edges of herself to keep the peace.
Told herself,It’s fine. He’s just worried. He just loves me.
But itwasn’tfine.
Because one day, she looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize herself.
She had shrunk.
Made herself smaller, quieter.
More manageable.
More lovable.
Morehis.
And the truth had hit her like glass breaking.
She had become the very thing she swore she never would.
She had become her mother.
Standing in the kitchen. Voice hushed. Hands folded.
Diminished.
