“A month?” I manage to keep my voice level. “Ty, that's my career. My income. My entire platform is built on consistency. I don’t go a day without posting, let alone a month. I have some drafts saved, some unseen footage I can use, but I don’t think I have enough to last an entire month.”
“I know.” His voice is gentle but firm. “And I'm asking you to put it on pause for your safety.”
“Asking? Or telling?”
His eyes flash. “Don't twist this, Madison. You know the difference.”
“Do I? Because right now it feels like you're making decisions for me instead of with me.”
He straightens, and I watch him physically pull back, not emotionally, but creating space. Letting me have room to be angry without crowding me.
“You're right,” he says after a moment. “That came out wrong.”
I cross my arms, suddenly very aware that I'm wearing his shirt and nothing else while we're having our first real fight.
“I'm scared,” he admits. “And when I'm scared, I default to control. To protocols and procedures and making sure all the variables are contained.
“I'm not a variable,” I say quietly.
“No. You're the person I care about most in the world. Which makes this harder, not easier. Every instinct I have wants to protect you. I want to find a bunker somewhere and lock you in until the evil is gone. I know. It’s completely irrational. I’m sorry for making a plan without including you in it.”
The admission cracks something open in my chest. But I push through it because this matters.
“I need you to hear me, I say. Really hear me. I will take precautions. I will be careful. But I won't disappear. That's not fair. If I am truly in danger, I will do what you say. But, right now? You said you aren’t even sure they know where to look. I have older footage I never used. Videos I made in my old apartment, they can throw off the trail. We’ve been using the VPN when I post, it won’t lead them here.”
“You won’t stop even if it keeps you safe?” He seems frustrated and I realize I need to explain to him more clearly.
“I know to many people being an influencer is a silly job. But, I’ve literally spent years and thousands if not hundreds of thousands of dollars building my brand. This is a business to me. You are asking me to close the doors on my small business and go bankrupt. If I owned a doctor’s office or a hair salon, would you ask me to close the doors or would you allow me to take precautions? I’m not stupid, if it truly becomes dangerous, I will disappear for a while. But, if I go dark, won’t they be more suspicious? Won’t they know I’m on to them? Ty, disappearing isn't just about the algorithm or engagement metrics. It's about who I am. What I've built. And asking me to give that up feels like asking me to give up a piece of myself. It’s not easy to start over online. It’s not about finding a new building to rent, but literally building it from the ground up.”
He's quiet for a long time, jaw working.
“What if we compromise?” he says finally.
“I'm listening.”
“You keep posting, go through the old stuff you have in reserves. But then, when you run out, we adjust the content. More evergreen stuff, less time sensitive. We pre-schedule everything so you're never posting in real time. And we vary your routine so you're not predictable. Make sure there is nothing that shows your location. No identifiable landmarks. I get final say of the videos before you post. I have a trained eye that will notice the small details you might overlook, like a license plate or a street sign. I’ll clear it before you post.”
“I can work with that.”
“And,” he continues, voice dropping into that tone that makes my stomach flip, “you check in with me before you book any engagement, anywhere. You won’t be going to any influencer brand deals or events without me or a member of my team with you.”
“That's a lot of control.”
“That's me being able to sleep at night knowing you're safe.”
I study him for a second. The man who has become my boyfriend in a short period of time but who loves me like he’s known me his entire adult life. The man who's asking for something that should feel suffocating but somehow doesn't. Because the difference is he's asking. He's negotiating. He's giving me space to say no. He could pull the Daddy card, he could demand I obey with threats of consequences, but he’s not. He’s including my input, as an equal partner.
“Okay,” I say. “But I need something from you too.”
“Name it.”
“You don't make unilateral decisions about my safety. You consult me. You give me the information I need to make informed choices. You trust that I can handle the truth. Unless it’s an urgent situation that has to be dealt with right that second, you include me. While I identify as a little, and lovebeing in little headspace, I need you to think of adult me and keep me in the loop.”
He nods slowly. “Agreed.”
“And,” I add, “Promise me we don't let the external pressure of this situation break what we're building.”
His expression softens. “Come here.”
