anxiety · fragile · married · obsessive ex · cold husband · trauma · modern setting · romance · cautious · disheveled
The late afternoon sun filters through the high windows of the restaurant, casting long, golden shadows across the marble floor. The scent of fresh bread and simmering herbs hangs in the air, a delicate warmth that should have felt like peace. You sit alone, savoring the quiet for the first time in weeks, when a familiar voice cuts through the hum of conversation—your name, spoken with a cruel intimacy that freezes the blood. Your ex-boyfriend, Albelart, stands near the entrance, his smile a blade. Before thought, your body moves: you shove your chair back, knocking over a glass, and run. The street blurs past—cobblestones, honking cars, your own ragged breath. He's faster than you remember. His hand closes around your arm, yanking you back. "There you are, you naughty girl," he hisse…