He looks down, shame settling over him like a shadow. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About what I lost when I turned my back. And because I see now how much I hurtyou.” A beat. “And because those emails won’t stop haunting me.”
My throat tightens. “It’s not just the past, Matt. It’s right now. You standing in front of me hurts. You not trusting me destroyed me. Your inability to defend me ruined everything we ever had. Can’t you see that?”
He forces himself to meet my eyes. “I fucked up. I know that. I’m so fucking sorry and I’ll never stop being sorry. But you need to understand, I felt trapped by that contract. I thought staying away would make it easier for you.” His voice drops. “I was afraid—afraid if I didn’t, I’d burn everything down trying to keep you.”
I stare at him, at the boy who was my entire world, and the man who became my deepest wound.
“Sometimes,” I say softly, “it feels like I’m the only one fighting to survive. Like none of this affected you in the slightest.”
“Christ,no.” His voice snaps, ragged. “Is that really what you think?” He drags a hand through his hair. “Baby, this past year has been hell. Not being able to see you—being cut off from you—drove me to things you would never imagine.”
A cold laugh claws out of me. “Oh, I know all about BegForMe. You think watching my streams means something? That it makes you anything other than a horny fucker who thought he still had a claim on my body?”
He flinches like I’ve struck him. For a moment, his face goes blank, then he steadies, pain and defensiveness warring across his features.
“Like sending you coffee because it makes you smile. Like having cameras in your flat, so I knew you were okay. Like takingcare of that bitch of a teacher. Like vetting Jamie and Isabella, so I knew you’d be safe with them.”
My skin crawls at his admission. “You don’t get to dress surveillance up as concern. You ran background checks on myfriends. You putcamerasin my flat.” The words taste foul. “You watched me sleep, Matt. You watched me when I thought I was alone.”
“I know how it sounds. I know it’s fucked up. But I kept waking up convinced something bad would happen and no one would be there to stop it.” His voice roughens. “I was desperate, sweetheart. If so much as a hair on your head were hurt, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
Fear flickers across his features and, for a second, I see the boy who’d once held my hand in a storm. But the damage is too deep to soften for ghosts.
“It wasn’t your place to make those decisions,” I say, my voice low and shaking. Just when I thought Matt couldn’t possibly fuck up more, he proves me wrong. “But once again, you took that choice from me. You built a cage around me even after you walked out of my life, and you think that’s fine because you wereworried?”
He closes his eyes. “I’m not asking you to excuse it. I did it because I still love you. I thought—stupidly—that if I controlled the risks, I could keep you safe.” His voice breaks. “But watching you only proved how wrong we were to think you could’ve been helping Jen. Those emails never fit you.”
“Control isn’t love, Matt.” The words fall like glass between us. “Control is theft. You stole my agency. You made me smaller so your world could make sense.” My chest burns. “And you standing here now, saying you finally see the lies in those emailsaftera year of watching me, tracking me, dissecting my life—” I shake my head. “That’s a kick in the teeth.”
I meet his eyes, unflinching.
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have needed proof. You would’ve trusted me.”
He closes his eyes as a shaky breath works through him. When he opens them, they’re wet, and a knife twists in my chest.
“I—” He reaches for me, then stops, hand hovering like he’s afraid to make it worse. “I was terrified. Of being wrong. Of being right. Of losing you.” His jaw locks. “And I didn’t trust myself enough to stand up to my Da.”
I step back. The distance feels like a clean wound.
“You weren’t brave enough to choose me over them,” I correct. “You weren’t brave enough to be the man who stands between me and that darkness.”
His voice drops to a whisper. “I’m trying to be that man now.”
That small, trembling word—trying—isn’t enough to be his redemption. It’s a beginning, maybe, or it could be nothing more than empty words. The room holds us both, charged and fragile. I feel the old ache inside me—love braided with hurt, a thread that refuses to break even when I tell it to.
“I dreamed about you,” I admit. “Every night for months. Waking up gasping because you weren’t there. You let them take everything from me, and you didn’t say a damn word.”
He flinches, like the confession physically hurts him. “I wanted to come after you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” I cry, louder than I mean to, throwing my hands up. “Why did I have to grieve you like you were dead?”
His shoulders sag. “Because I was a coward,” he says again, his voice shredded. “And because every time my Da opened his mouth, I heard my mother’s voice instead.”
That stops me.
“I grew up watching her destroy my family,” he continues, words spilling faster now. “Watching her lie. Watching her manipulate him. Using his love against him until there was nothing left.” His jaw tightens.
“Then we found out Jen had done the same, and suddenly everyone was telling me you were doing it too—that you were playing us. Playing me. I was terrified… terrified that loving you meant becoming him. Weak. Blind. Ruined.”
