I knew it would happen.
The moment that message landed on my phone — the sharp, commanding words searing through the screen — my heart skipped, not in fear… but something else.
Excitement.
Shame.
I didn't tell Lila where I was going that night. I lied. Told her I needed a walk. A coffee. Space. And she smiled, believing me, trusting me.
If I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of his hands on my skin. Still hear my own voice, begging, trembling, saying his name like it meant something.
I barely made it back that night.
My body sore. My thoughts wrecked.
The guilt hit me like a sickness.
I avoided Elias after that. Ignored every message, every call. I didn't go to the next dinner. I told Lila I had a migraine, then a stomach bug, then that I needed air.
I couldn't look her in the eye.
Not after I slept with the man she kept calling her dream.
Not after she whispered to me, "He's so different, Luna. He looks at me like I'm someone. Like I matter."
She didn't know his eyes never left me at that table. She didn't know he never even touched her hand.
She didn't know I wanted to run back to him.
And yet, I stayed away.
Until he sent the photos.
One by one.
Me on his table, half-dressed, mouth open in a silent cry.
His hands on me.
My legs around him.
And then his message.
> "Dinner. Tomorrow. If you miss it, I'll show your best friend what you look like when you fall apart."
I stared at that line for minutes.
He wouldn't.
He couldn't.
Would he?
I typed back:
> "Don't you dare."
His response was immediate.
> "Then don't make me."
I went to the next dinner.
I sat beside Lila, smiling, nodding, pretending. Elias sat across from us, smug and silent. Lila leaned close to whisper to me how mysterious he was, how kind. I excused myself to the bathroom just to breathe.
This wasn't me. This wasn't the life I wanted.
And yet... I kept coming.
Every dinner.
Every evening.
Every excuse to avoid confrontation while feeding the very thing that could destroy me.
But what tore me most was the truth that lingered beneath it all.
I wasn't just scared.
I missed him.
The man who threatened me.
The man who took me apart.
The man who, with every message, reminded me I was no longer free.
I didn't know it yet… but something had already begun to grow inside me.
And it wasn't just fear.
---