“With what?”
“You’re vulnerable right now,” he says. “Men can sense that.”
The irony is so sharp it almost makes me dizzy.
Men can sense that.
Says the man who’s been treating me like a burden and a pet and a project.
Says the man who didn’t tell me there was a camera in the living room. With audio. And laughed when he finally admitted it—after I’d done my therapy intake in that exact room, spilling my guts about everything I’ve survived.
Says the man who calls me downstairs like I’m a dog. Who parades me around publicly when it suits him—always making sure my outfit is “right,” that I’m presentable enough to match his story about himself when we rub shoulders with his superficial friends and colleagues.
He hides behind “I’m not attracted to you, to women,” like it absolves him of treating me like property.
But it’s really not that different.
He continues, calm and patronizing. “I’m just saying, you’re not in a place to make impulsive decisions.”
My fingers tighten around my phone. “I’m not making a decision,” I say, failing to keep my voice neutral. “We’re just talking.”
He nods slowly. “Good,” he says. “Because I don’t want to see you spiral again.”
Again.Always again.
As if my suffering is a loop I enjoy repeating. As if it isn’t something done to me. As if I’m not still bleeding.
He smiles like he’s said something wise.
Then he stands abruptly. “I have a call,” he says. “Try to keep your energy light today.”
And he walks away, just like that, leaving his words hanging in the air like smoke.
I sit there, frozen, chest tight, hands trembling slightly.
Then I look down at my phone again. Soren’s message is still on the screen.
I’d show you the best food in the city.
It’s such a normal sentence. So harmless.
And yet it feels like a door.
Like something that exists outside this apartment—outside this constant monitoring.
Outside this invisible leash I didn’t agree to wear.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard.
Type. Delete. Type again.
My heart races.
I can’t remember the last time I felt… wanted. Not used or merely tolerated.Wanted.
Finally, I hit send.
Me: