(TW: Sexual Content in the beginning but it's not detailed. Also, don't get too excited, it's not what you're hoping for.)

2.1k words
༻✦༺

(y/n)'s POV
The more I think about it, the more I realize that Windu's suicide just doesn't make any sense.

To the bone?

I've never heard of a suicide involving wrist cuts that went that deep, the pain would be excruciating. Most people would drop the knife from the agony before getting anywhere near that point—and let's say, just for the sake of argument, he did manage to do it himself. There's no doubt in my mind that he would be screaming in pain. Yet, his body wasn't found until morning, even though he supposedly died around midnight?

Unless he was actually murdered, and someone else silenced his screams. That little voice in my head suggested. Though she had a habit of being wrong, she told me to be with Jackson, to leave my life behind, that I would be happier.

She's told me a lot of fucking lies.

I really need to stop fixating on this; I'm going to drive myself crazy if I don't stop.

I let out a heavy sigh and shut my eyes, only to snap them back open when I remembered what I was supposed to be doing. "Does that feel good, baby?" Jackson moaned as he clumsily moved on top of me.

I forgot we were even here.

"Yeah, it's great," I replied, lacking any real enthusiasm. Not that he'd notice; his focus during this whole thing is all about him. He just asks me questions out of habit but hardly ever pays attention to my answers.

He shouted right next to my ear, making me cringe at the volume and the uncomfortable heat of his breath on my neck and his lips on my ear, sucking. I've told him countless times I hated the feeling of his lips and breath on my ear, it makes me want to squirm away, yet he never listens.

I figured the best move was to just shut my eyes and wait for it to be over. "Me too," I said, nearly yawning but holding it back so he wouldn't notice and get upset.

If I'm being honest, our sex life started off pretty good. Nothing mind-blowing, but it was enough to keep me satisfied. But after we got engaged, things took a turn; he became more self-centered and stuck in a routine. It's so dull now—there's zero passion or thrill. When it happens, it feels more like a chore to keep him happy rather than something I actually want to do.

And god forbid I say no. I can't say no, not if I don't want another argument where I eventually just become coerced into doing it. It's sad, only saying yes to ease my own personal suffering.

Finally, after what felt like the longest five minutes ever—yes, just five, on a good day—he finished and rolled away. His sweaty chest was rising and falling with each heavy breath. "That was amazing," he sighed, closing his eyes with a satisfied smile.

At least one of us had a good time.

"Yeah, it was, but I need to shower and get ready for work now," I said, getting off the bed and heading toward the bathroom, grabbing my towel from the hook on the way.

I heard him shift in the bed, and I realized he was now facing me as I opened the bathroom door that connected to our bedroom. "I didn't know you had to work today. I had plans for us to have lunch with my parents," he said, irritation clear in his voice.

I stood in the bathroom doorway, my heart pounding as a wave of anxiety came over me—a feeling I have become too familiar with.

A feeling no one should be this familiar with.

Taking a deep breath, I forced a smile and replied, "It's Monday, Jackson. I always work on Mondays; it's the weekends when I'm free." I had told him this before, so many times that I lost count, but I knew he would insist I never mentioned it, leaving me to bear the blame for our canceled plans.

"You never mentioned that," he snapped, rising from the bed and approaching me.

I let out a sigh as my smile faded away.

Nothing is ever his fault, everything is always my fault.

He does no wrong, I am always wrong.

And so, the unnecessary argument begins. Words were thrown back and forth, insults and slurs.

The next thing I remember, I'm on the floor, my jaw throbbing.

༻✦༺

I arrived late today—once again, and when I finally stepped into the room, Anakin was already there, waiting for me. "Sorry I'm late," I said as I settled into my chair, placing my iced coffee on the table in front of me. His striking blue eyes flickered toward the drink, filled with a longing glance. "I was getting you coffee."

"Vanilla?" he asked, his gaze slowly rising to meet mine.

I nodded, lifting the cup and reaching across the table to bring the straw to his lips. "With extra sweetener," I said with a smile. He returned the smile, leaning forward to take the drink.

For a few tense seconds, I found my eyes glued to his lips. He used his tongue to push the straw away, a familiar sign that he was done. "Thank you," he said, licking the remnants of coffee from his lips before leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

I swallowed hard, pushing aside some distracting thoughts—I'm a unsatisfied woman, I can't be blamed for noticing a man's attractiveness.

I nodded before taking a sip of my own drink. I wasn't a fan of coffee this sweet, but I was starting to get used to it.

"How was your weekend, Doc? And no, that's not my question—just being polite," he said with a shrug, his eyes scanning my face as they often did at the beginning of our sessions. He never said it outright, but I knew he was searching for anything out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately, he was about to find it.

I cleared my throat as his gaze settled on my chin, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to get a look at what I had failed to conceal. "It was fine. I mostly stayed home and—"

"Sweetheart," he interrupted, leaning closer, his head tilted as he focused on the injury that was only partially visible, "Lift that pretty chin up for me, would you?"

(DV Warning)
Jackson shouted at me, "If you weren't so stupid, you might have actually remembered to say something!" I stumbled back into the bathroom, feeling small in comparison. "It's so embarrassing to keep canceling because of your mistakes!"

"But I did—"

He interrupted me, shoving me inside with a force that made me lose my balance on the slick marble. I reached for the sink to steady myself, but instead, I crashed my jaw against the hard surface.

Pain shot through me as I hit the floor, and I looked up at Jackson in fear while he loomed over me, saying, "You make me do this to you."

I could barely process the pain radiating through my body as I stared up at him, my heart racing in my chest. The cold marble beneath me felt like ice, contrasting sharply with the heat of my humiliation and fear. Jackson's silhouette loomed over me, his features twisted in a mix of rage and something darker, something that made my stomach churn uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry," my voice barely a whisper. I didn't need to apologize, I had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't matter here.

Jackson stepped closer, his shadow swallowing me whole before he bent down to my level. "Sorry doesn't cut it," he spat, his breath hot against my face, "Get up." He grabbed my arm, causing it to ache and pulled me to my feet.
(Warning over)

It was my fault. I tripped, I was clumsy.

"I'd prefer not to, Anakin. Let's just get started." I let out a sigh and reached for my notebook, but then I stopped short, realizing it wasn't in front of me. I looked up at Anakin, who was grinning. "Did you take my notebook?"

Wait, did I even bring it with me? I couldn't remember grabbing it at all today.

Anakin nodded slowly, his grin widening. "You left it here on Friday when you rushed out. I figured I'd borrow it for the weekend since no one was around." He chuckled, and my eyes widened in irritation.

That notebook was filled with my notes about him. There was even a section at the back where I doodled, including a drawing of his eyes in blue ink. They were some of the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen, and I wasn't ashamed to think so. I was entitled to my opinions. But that doesn't make it not embarrassing if he happened to see it.

"My favorite part was that little section at the back," he said, crushing my hope that he hadn't looked too deeply. "You're quite the artist, but you got the blue wrong."

As expected, heat rises to my cheeks as I flushed with embarrassment. "I used what I had," I said, clearing my throat as I sat up, trying to hold his amused gaze. "So where is it? No games, please. I could get in trouble for losing that."

"Oh, we wouldn't want that, now would we?" He shifted in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table in a rhythmic pattern. The tune felt familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. "It's in my room. You can come get it tonight if you want," he offered, biting his lip with a smile.

The jerk had it all figured out; he could have easily brought it with him today, but he deliberately chose not to, hoping I would agree to visit his cell again.

"Or," I twisted my pen between my fingers, "you could just bring it to me tomorrow." I shrugged, trying to sidestep his little game.

He laughed softly, glancing down at the table while playing with the silver chains in his hands. I remembered when Mace used to do that and how uneasy it made me feel, but with Anakin, it was different. I didn't feel threatened by him. Even with his terrible reputation, I had a hard time believing he'd do anything like that to me. "You're right, I could do that, but I might just forget," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they met mine.

Frustrated, I let my pen drop. He was making this harder than it needed to be. "Then I'll just tell the guard you have it, and he can fetch it for me." I smiled, hoping that little threat would work. Especially if he had something hidden that he wouldn't want the guards to find; I suspected that was true for most of the patients here. They were all quite clever and resourceful.

But he seemed completely unfazed, "Go ahead, but I'll tell Obi-Wan about your little notes. It wasn't just my eyes you fantasized about sweetheart, I see you also have a fascination with my lips—"

"Okay, stop." I raised my hand to cut him off, not wanting to be embarrassed any further. "I'll go, just promise you won't mention this again." I let my hands fall on the table in defeat. Again, I'm a unsatisfied woman and he's a very gorgeous man—sue me. But it's just notes, little things for myself that I'd never actually act on or have ever wished to become public.

I would just love to crawl into a hole right now and cease to exist.

He chuckled, a triumphant smirk on his face. "I can't promise that, but I'm looking forward to your nightly visits; we should make it a regular thing." He winked at me.

I sighed in exasperation, shaking my head and pressing my tongue against the inside of my cheek. "It will not become a regular thing."

"If you say so, Doc," he shrugged, leaning forward and opening his mouth, silently asking for more coffee—my gaze drifting to his lips.

༻✦༺