He shook his head, smiling. “No. Not a puppy.” He caught my eye. “Do you remember what I told you about collars?”
I searched for the words he’d used that night on my couch. “It’s a symbol.”
“A symbol of ownership,” he confirmed. “My promise to you—to be responsible for you, devoted to you, bound to protect everything you trust me with.”
The weight of it settled over me. Everything we’d discussed. Rules. Structure. The promise that I’d never be alone again.
“And in return you trust me to make the right decisions for your wellbeing.” A beat. “And you obey them.”
Obey.I turned the word over, testing its edges.
I’d expected fear to follow. Instead, there was only a strange sense of relief.
“And if I don’t?”
“Consequences.” Matter-of-fact. Unhurried. “Ones that fit the misstep.”
I nodded slowly, remembering his examples—salmon for a week, privileges revoked. Structure, not cruelty.
“There will be rules,” he continued. “I mentioned them last night. Do you remember?”
“Some of them,” I admitted.
His expression softened. “Then let me be clear.” He held up a finger. “You wear what I set out for you.” Another finger. “Three meals a day. No skipping.” A third. “One hour of self-care, daily.” A fourth. “And you see a therapist.”
I stiffened. “A therapist?”
“I can hold you accountable for a lot of things, Emma. But I can’t give you what a professional can.”
I shifted. That one still didn’t sit easy—even knowing it was coming.
“Is that it?”
“For now. More will come as we figure this out together.” His mouth curved. “Nothing you don’t agree with though.”
I didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched between us as I turned it over—the promise, the rules, the structure he was offering like a lifeline I hadn’t known I needed.
None of it sounded unreasonable. Most of it sounded like things I should’ve been doing all along.
But there was one question left.
One last confirmation.
“And if I change my mind?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Then you change your mind. We go back to being us.”
No guilt. No pressure. Just… an open door.
I nodded, anticipation settling in my bones.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s give this a shot.”
His face transformed—hope and disbelief and something dangerously close to joy. “Really?”
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “Yes. But if I don’t like it—”
“You’re out,” he cut in. “I know.”
