Loraine healed on the outside.
On the inside, something stayed broken—but quiet.
Jason made sure of that.
Soft Chains
He didn't lock doors anymore.
That was the first thing she noticed.
"You can go out today," Jason said one morning, voice careful. "Anywhere you want."
She looked up slowly, suspicious.
"No guards?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Just come back before dark."
For the first time in weeks, she stepped outside alone.
Sunlight touched her skin like forgiveness.
She cried that day—not because she was happy, but because she felt normal again.
Jason watched from the window.
And smiled.
Guilt Wears Kindness Well
Jason changed.
He stopped raising his voice.
He stopped grabbing her wrist.
He stopped forcing closeness.
Instead, he gave her choices.
"What do you want to eat?"
"Do you want to see your friends?"
"Tell me what you need."
At night, he slept on the edge of the bed, facing away from her.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered once, not turning around.
Those words did something dangerous.
They softened her.
Forgiveness Begins Quietly
Loraine began to talk again.
Not about the baby.
Not about the loss.
But about small things.
Her favorite café.
A dress she liked.
A song that reminded her of who she used to be.
Jason listened like a man starving.
When she laughed one evening—really laughed—he closed his eyes as if in prayer.
"Thank you," he said softly.
"For what?"
"For not leaving me."
Her chest tightened.
What She Didn't See
He scheduled her outings.
Timed her freedom.
Controlled who answered her calls.
She thought she was choosing.
But every path led back to him.
Every kindness came after fear.
Every apology followed damage.
Jason wasn't freeing her.
He was retraining her heart.
The Moment of Forgiveness
One night, she found him sitting alone in the dark, head in his hands.
"I see her sometimes," he said without looking up. "The baby."
Loraine froze.
"I don't sleep," he continued. "I don't forgive myself."
She hesitated… then sat beside him.
"I know you didn't mean it," she whispered.
Those words shattered him.
He reached for her hand, carefully—asking, not taking.
"I swear," he said, voice shaking, "I'll spend my life making this right."
She nodded.
And just like that—
Forgiveness entered the room.
Love or Survival
Loraine told herself she forgave him because he changed.
Because he gave her space.
Because he let her breathe.
Because he looked broken instead of dangerous.
But deep down, another truth lived quietly:
Forgiving him felt safer than fighting him.
Jason's Promise (Unspoken)
As she slept beside him that night, Jason watched her chest rise and fall.
Mine, he thought.
Not because I cage you anymore.
But because you came back willingly.
What This Means
Jason's obsession has evolved into control through kindness
Loraine's forgiveness is real—but fragile and shaped by fear
The danger hasn't disappeared… it has learned patience