No Going Back
413 Words
I left that night with my bag clutched to my chest, my mind a storm I couldn’t calm.
His words haunted me. His touch lingered. The way his eyes had stripped me bare—it was as if he had already taken me without laying a finger more than that single touch under my chin.
I told myself it was wrong. I told myself it was dangerous. I told myself he was just trying to get back at his son.
But deep down, I knew better.
It wasn’t about his son.
It was about me.
Days passed. My ex kept calling, apologizing, begging, swearing that what I saw wasn’t what it looked like. Lies. Empty, desperate lies. Every time I ignored him, the anger in his voice grew, until his messages sounded more like demands than pleas.
I was breaking, but not in the way he thought.
Instead of crawling back to him, I found myself circling closer to the one man I shouldn’t.
It happened again the following week. I ran into his father outside a café, his presence impossible to miss. Tall, commanding, dressed in a dark suit that spoke of power and control. He spotted me instantly, and once again, his eyes locked on me with that same dangerous intensity.
“Still wasting time on him?” he asked smoothly, as if he already knew the answer.
“No,” I said quickly. “Not anymore.”
Something in his expression shifted—satisfaction. As though I had given the right answer to a question I hadn’t realized was a test.
“Good,” he murmured, stepping closer, close enough that the scent of his cologne curled around me, intoxicating and sharp. “Because I won’t allow you to crawl back to him.”
The words weren’t a suggestion. They were a command.
My lips parted, ready to argue, to tell him he had no right to decide what I did with my life. But then his hand brushed my waist—just a whisper of a touch, yet it set my entire body on fire.
“You’re mine now,” he said, low and certain. “And I don’t share.”
I should have pushed him away. I should have screamed and reminded him that he was crossing every line.
But instead, I whispered the truth that scared me most.
“I don’t want you to.”
And just like that, I knew—there was no going back.
- Writer
