a/n: i recommend the song for this chapter

Quinn

Love is an intricate dance—sometimes it flows seamlessly, other times it's a stutter-step, leaving you out of breath. For me, it felt like one of those dances where I kept stepping on Rafes toes, even though I was trying my best not to. I couldn't help it, I was constantly in motion.

Love is supposed to feel like a safe place, like something warm you can wrap yourself in. But with Rafe, it always felt more like a battlefield.

Sometimes it was good. The way he would look at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. How he held me so tightly, like he could keep me from slipping away. And then there were the bad moments—the ones that made me feel like I was unraveling.

I didn't know how it had gotten to this point, but I couldn't help myself. I was in love with him, and even though I knew it was toxic, I couldn't seem to stop myself from falling deeper. I might not show all the toxic things that go on, but it's my toxic.

There were nights when we'd lay in his bed, the silence between us almost suffocating. And then he would touch me, his fingers brushing my skin like a promise. But the promise always felt hollow. I knew I shouldn't stay, but I did. Every time.

It's not like I could go anywhere anyways because we are married and I have nowhere else to go.

It started small, little things that made me question him. The way his smile could turn cold in an instant, the way his eyes would narrow when he didn't get what he wanted. I learned to tiptoe around his moods, to sense the shift in the air before he said anything. I learned that sometimes, silence was safer than speaking my mind.

But it wasn't always like that. Sometimes, when he looked at me, there was that tenderness I craved. And when he touched me, there was this rush that made me forget everything else. I'd close my eyes and let myself pretend it was real, that this was love, that this was enough.

Plot twist, it wasnt.

Then there were the nights when he'd get angry for no reason, and I'd feel myself cower, that fear clawing up my throat. The harsh words, the cold shoulder, the quiet after an argument that wasn't really resolved but just pushed down until it would explode again.

I hated myself for it, for staying when I knew better. But every time I thought about walking away, I remembered how it felt when he was soft, when he smiled like I was the only one he wanted, when he held me close enough that I almost believed it.

And then there was that night. The night I would never forget, the one where everything changed.

We had been arguing for hours—about nothing, really. It was always the same. Small things that spiraled out of control, things that didn't matter but somehow became the center of our world. I remember the way he looked at me, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark. And I remember thinking, This is it. I'm messing it up. I always do.

"Quit making it worse, Quinn," Rafe snapped, his voice sharp, like glass shattering. I could feel the anger rolling off of him in waves, and I knew what was coming. I knew better than to challenge him when he was like this, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted him to see me, to listen.

"I'm not making it worse. You are," I shot back, the words coming out more venomous than I meant.

His eyes flashed. "You think I'm the problem?" he hissed. "You're the one who can't stop fucking up."

Before I could say anything else, he was on me. He grabbed my arm so tight it hurt, pulling me toward him, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. I don't even think I realized what was happening until I felt the sting across my cheek.

It wasn't the first time, but this time, it felt different. My vision blurred, my heart pounded in my chest, and the taste of blood was in my mouth. But more than that, it was the silence afterward. The eerie, suffocating silence where nothing seems real anymore.

He didn't say anything, didn't apologize. He just stood there, breathing hard, staring at me like he wasn't sure who I was anymore.

I don't know why I stayed, why I didn't leave then. Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was the love that still lingered like a half-forgotten dream. But I didn't leave. I just stood there, numb, my hand brushing my cheek, pretending it didn't hurt as much as it did.

I was scared, but more than that, I was lost. I couldn't see a way out. I couldn't tell where the love ended and the damage began.

And somehow, in that moment, I felt like it was all my fault. I had stayed too long, believed too much, let myself fall for someone who would only ever hurt me.

But then he stepped forward, his hand reaching out to me like nothing had happened, like he hadn't just left a mark on me. "Quinn, I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now, almost like he regretted it. Almost like it was my fault for pushing him too far. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

But I wasn't sure anymore if I could believe him. The words felt empty, like they were just a way to get me to stay.

As I stared at him, I realized something. The tenderness he showed me wasn't enough to undo the damage. I was starting to see that the love I had for him wasn't the kind of love that healed, it was the kind that broke you apart piece by piece until you didn't even recognize yourself anymore.

I wanted to walk away. I wanted to run and never look back. But I couldn't move. I was paralyzed by my own fear, by the ties that had already wrapped around me too tightly.

Maybe someday, I will find a way to break free. But for now, I was trapped, caught in the chaos of it all.