John & Katie

Echoes Of Control

STEVEN.

My brother, Wilson, insists I need a fresh start.

We've been arguing about it on and off for months, and lately, it feels like every conversation between us somehow finds its way back to the same subject.

According to Wilson, I have a habit of holding on to women long after a relationship has ended. He thinks I get too attached. That I refuse to let go of something that should have been left behind.

And apparently, that means I need to change my life.

The frustrating part is that I know Wilson means well. I've always admired him, even when I don't agree with him. He's five years older than me, and somewhere along the way, he became the person who always seemed to have his life figured out.

But that doesn't mean he gets to figure out mine.

I'm not a child anymore. I make my own decisions, and I don't need my older brother deciding what's best for me.

Wilson, of course, sees things differently.

Ten years ago, Wilson and I left Pakistan and came to New York to build a new life. Wilson was twenty-one when I just turned sixteen.

After an incident involving our sister and her boyfriend, we were forced to leave the country. That's when my uncle Virgil took us in. He gave us jobs at his convenience store, and handled the paperwork that allowed us to remain in the US.

We lived with him until Wilson was financially stable enough to take care of me on his own.

Looking back, I still don't know how he managed it.

He was only twenty-two himself, yet somehow, he became everything I needed.

My brother.

My protector.

My mentor.

For years, Wilson put me before himself. He worked, studied, and carried responsibilities no one his age should have had to bear.

Somehow, a five-year age difference became a lifetime of him looking out for me.

He taught me that family isn't just about blood.

It's about showing up.

About sacrifice.

About loving someone enough to put them first.

Maybe that's why his opinion still carries so much weight with me—even when I don't want it to.

It was my uncle Virgil who pushed me towards night school. He wanted us to build something for ourselves, to have opportunities he never wanted us to take for granted.

What I didn't know was that night school would give me more than an education. It would lead me to Sophia.

She had long, dark curls that fell down her back, a warm complexion, and a smile that could light up an entire room. She always smelled faintly of roses, and there was something about her that drew me in.

From the moment we met, we clicked.

We talked, laughed and studied together.

Every break became an excuse to be together.

Within weeks, we were inseparable.

For three months, I honestly believed Sophia was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I had no idea how quickly that would change.

Then two new students joined our class—both guys. Sophia introduced me to them, explaining that they were old classmates of hers.

At first, I didn't think much of it. They were just two new faces. But then I started noticing Sophia spending more and more time with them.

She laughed more freely, her smile brighter than I'd ever seen. And for some reason, it made me uneasy.

She suddenly was finding every reason to sit at their table during every break.

I tried to ignore the knot forming in my stomach. I told myself I was imagining things. That I was being paranoid, but with every passing day, I became more convinced I was losing her.

For weeks, it continued.

Jealousy crept in first.

Then doubt.

Then fear.

Fear that someone else would take away the person who had become the center of my world.

By the beginning of the fourth week, I'd had enough.

When the bell rang for break, I walked over to Sophia, determined to ask the question that had been eating at me.

I needed to know what was going on with her.

When I confronted her about the guys, she insisted that they were just old friends.

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to.

But something deep in my gut told me otherwise.

"Sophia, what's going on with you and those guys? You've been spending a lot of time with them these past few weeks."

"There is nothing going on. We're just hanging out."

"I don't like it, and I don't want you hanging around them anymore."

She stared at me as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Are you serious right now?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

A bitter laugh escaped her.

"They're my friends. If I want to hang out with them, I will, Steven."

I clenched my jaw.

"You're my girlfriend. I don't want you to have male friends."

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw something change in her expression.

She stared at me for a long moment.

"You can't control me or who I hang out with." Her voice rose. "Are you even hearing yourself?"

She turned and started walking away.

Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

She spun around, immediately trying to pull free.

"Let me go."

"Not until you listen to me."

"Listen..... There's nothing to listen to."

I glanced toward the two guys across the room. "I'm done watching you with them."

She yanked her wrist free.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that no more because this thing between us.....she paused, her eyes locking onto mine. "Is over."

I stood there watching her walk away. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart.

When we returned to class, I barely heard a word the professor said.

My mind kept on drifting back to what happened with Sophia.

Every few minutes, my eyes drifted toward her.

She sat several rows away, laughing and whispering with them. I tried not to look, but every time I did, something inside me tightened.

When class finally ended, I stayed in my seat for a few moments, watching Sophia near the front of the room with the same two guys.

I got up and walked toward them.

Sophia had her back to me.

Before I could reach her, the two guys stepped between us.

The taller one—Adrian, if I remember correctly—looked me straight in the eye.

"You need to leave Sophia alone."

I glanced around the nearly empty classroom.

"And if I don't?"

Adrian didn't blink.

"Then you'll have to deal with us."

"She's my girlfriend, and this has nothing to do with you."

The shorter one, Griffin, stepped forward.

"She was your girlfriend. Past tense. Right now, you're harassing her."

"I'm just trying to talk to her," I snapped.

Sophia's voice came from behind them.

"I told you to leave me alone."

"I just need to talk, Sophia."

Griffin moved closer.

"This is your last warning. Stay away from her."

"Or what?"

I looked between them.

For the first time, my confidence faltered. I was outnumbered and alone.

I scoffed, trying to hide it.

"Whatever."

I glanced back at Sophia one last time.

"She's not worth it anyway."

Then I turned and walked out of the classroom.

But the moment I stepped into the hallway. It hit me.

I had lost her.

Three days later, I saw Sophia leaving the grocery store.

The moment she walked up to her car and spotted me, she froze.

"We need to talk," I said in a quiet tone.

"I have nothing to say to you."

As she turned to walk away, I grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth.

She struggled against me, panic flashing across her face.

"Easy. All I want is to talk."

A muffled sound escaped beneath my hand.

"I'm going to take my hand away. Don't scream. Do you understand?"

She nodded quickly.

I slowly removed my hand.

"Can we talk now?"

"Let me put my groceries away first."

I nodded.

She placed the bags in the trunk, then turned around and folded her arms.

"Okay. Talk." She said in an irritated voice.

I gestured toward her car. "Let's sit inside."

She hesitated before reluctantly following me.

Once inside, I closed the door and took a deep breath.

"Sophia, I care about you and miss you. I was jealous you were spending so much time with Adrian and Griffin.

I told you, they are my friends.

"I won't let another man take you from me. You belong to me. Do you understand?"

She looked away.

"Sophia?"

"I understand." She sounded defeated.

"Good."

I leaned back, satisfied.

Then I asked, "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"There's a Starbucks just around the corner. We can grab something."

Sophia gave me a small nod. "I guess so."

I drove only a block before pulling into the back parking lot of the Starbucks.

I turned off the engine and looked at her.

"Stay here. I'll get the door for you."

She nodded.

I walked around the car and opened her door. She stepped out, and I shut it behind her before locking the car, slipping the keys into my pocket.

When we entered, I placed a hand around her waist as we approached the counter.

We placed our order and I noticed she held the gaze of the barista a little too long.

Something about the exchange bothered me.

A few minutes later, two baristas brought our food and drinks to the table.

I reached for my drink.

Before I could take a sip, one of the baristas grabbed Sophia by the arm and pulled her behind him.

I shot to my feet.

The other barista stepped directly in front of me.

"What are you doing?"

Sophia stepped out from behind him.

"He has my keys. I need them back."

"Sophia, what are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, she pulled out her phone and placed a call.

"Help me. I'm at Starbucks," she whispered, quickly giving the person on the other end the address. Then her eyes locked on mine. "Steven is here."

My stomach dropped.

"Who are you calling?"

The barista turned toward me and held out his hand.

"Give me her keys."

I looked around. Every eye in the room seemed fixed on us.

Slowly, I reached into my pocket, pulled out the keys, and dropped them into his waiting hand.

"Good," he said. "Now you need to leave."

As I stepped outside, I glanced back.

"And don't come back," one of them warned.

I stared at them through the glass, still trying to process what had just happened.

I had only wanted to talk to Sophia, yet somehow, the entire situation had turned against me.

Why had she asked those men for help?

I hadn't hurt her.

I only wanted to talk.

By the time I reached my apartment, I was angry, confused, and exhausted.

I had barely stepped inside when someone knocked on my door.

I opened it.

Adrian and Griffin stood on the other side.

Before I could say a word, Adrian grabbed my shirt and slammed me against the wall.

"Get off me!" I shouted.

His fist connected with my jaw.

Pain exploded across my face, and I stumbled.

Before I could recover, Griffin drove a punch into my stomach.

The air left my lungs. I doubled over, struggling to breathe.

Adrian grabbed my shirt and hauled me upright, his face inches from mine.

"Stay away from Sophia. Next time, we won't go so easy on you."

He shoved me back and struck me across the jaw again.

I hit the floor hard.

By the time I looked up, they were already walking out.

The door slammed shut behind them.

I remained where I was for a moment, my jaw throbbing.

But my pride hurt worse.

Not long after, I dropped out of night school and enrolled at another college, hoping a fresh start would change everything.

It didn't.

Before long, I was involved with another woman, and somehow, history repeated itself.

Jealousy.

Possessiveness.

The constant fear of losing her.

I went through the same cycle at two more colleges, each time convincing myself that the next place—and the next relationship—would be different.

Eventually, Wilson had enough.

He told me to stop chasing relationships and find something productive to focus on.

For once, I listened.

That was when I started selling sandwiches at Carl Schurz Park in Manhattan.