He Mistook My Pain for Love

I grew up starved for affection. So when I fell for a boyfriend with an almost pathological need to control me, I did what any perfectly normal, emotionally deprived woman might do. I acted scared. I resisted. I trembled and protested. And secretly, I was thrilled. He demanded to know my whereabouts every waking moment. Checking my phone was part of our daily routine. Deleting people from my contacts was practically a hobby. Everyone else thought his behavior was suffocating. Me? I thought it was sweet. But lately, something had changed. His replies went from instantaneous to taking forever. His check-ins dwindled from three times a day to once every three days, until eventually, he stopped checking on me altogether. I was devastated. Lonely, too. Then, one day, I suddenly heard his thoughts. She's too obedient. It's boring. She wasn't like this before. She's getting more boring by the day. The next second, I stared blankly at my phone. The screen lit up with a new message. From my first love, the dangerously possessive man who had once loved me like an obsession he couldn't survive without. Baby, I'm back in the country. 01 The blood rushed to my head. For one frozen second, I couldn't move. Quinn. He was back? Just seeing his name sent a cold shiver down my spine. An ache of dread rose in my chest, something sour and suffocating, rooted so deep in my soul that no amount of time had managed to kill it. If my current boyfriend, Adrian, was merely controlling—the kind of man who demanded constant updates about where I was and refused to let me have male friends, like a dog guarding its food—then Quinn was... A rabid dog. No. That wasn't fair to dogs. At least dogs could understand human speech. Quinn couldn't. I still remembered the day I'd stood in front of him with a sharp kitchen knife in my hand, screaming at the top of my lungs that we were over. He'd reached straight through the blade. The sound of metal sinking into flesh still made my scalp crawl, even three years later. Blood trickled between his fingers, yet he seemed not to feel a thing. His bleeding hand closed around mine, inch by agonizing inch. His eyes were unnervingly calm. So calm, in fact, that there was something almost tender in them. "Be good," he'd murmured. "And don't ever say those two words again." Then he'd pulled me into his arms. His embrace was broad and powerful, but there was no warmth in it. Only a shudder that seemed to reach all the way into my bones. I'd wondered more than once whether he was mentally ill. I'd also spent a ridiculous amount of time wondering what on earth he'd seen in me. Weren't obsessive, possessive men supposed to be obsessed with beautiful women? I wasn't particularly pretty. Aside from having a generous bust, I had an otherwise fairly ordinary figure, and I was a little chubby. Quinn had never cared. Whenever he looked at me, his eyes filled with a devotion so intense it bordered on worship. When he hugged me, he held me as if he wanted to press me straight into his rib cage, breathing in the scent of my skin at the side of my neck like he couldn't get enough. "This is perfect," he'd told me once. "You fit just right in my arms." If anyone else had said that, I would've mentally filed it under whatever and moved on. But Quinn? I was genuinely afraid he might secretly collect my farts in jars. 02 I was still sitting there in a daze, my mind filled with the image of Quinn's devastatingly handsome, thoroughly unhinged face, when Adrian set down his glass across the table. "Want to go anywhere else after we finish eating?" he asked gently. His attention appeared focused entirely on me, as though he genuinely cared what I wanted to do. Then I heard the voice inside his head. God, this is taking forever. When the hell can I leave? My ranked match starts tonight. I paused, discreetly slipped my phone away, and shook my head. "I'm a little tired. My period's kicking my ass. Can we just go home?" Adrian smiled. "Of course." His expression was flawless. Once upon a time, he would've noticed something was off immediately. He would've caught me by the shoulders and interrogated me until he knew every last detail. He used to check my message list every single day, scrutinizing my conversations with everyone I knew. If I sent a male coworker something as harmless as Thanks, I'd have to endure a whole evening of sarcastic remarks. And tonight was Valentine's Day. Back when Adrian still cared, Quinn's message would've barely had time to appear on my screen before Adrian intercepted it. But now... How long had it been? How long since he'd last checked my phone? Holding hands. What a hassle. His thoughts pricked at my ears like a tiny needle. Adrian walked beside me, his expression indifferent, a faint trace of impatience settling around his eyes. If I don't hold her hand, she'll get upset. That's even more of a hassle. The next moment, he took a deep breath and reached for my hand, as if he were completing an unpleasant task on his to-do list. The instant his palm touched mine, I remembered what it had been like when we'd first started dating. Back then, Adrian had been clingy. He insisted on putting his arm around my shoulders or holding my hand whenever we went anywhere. He wouldn't even let me turn around to admire a handsome stranger. Women, too, were apparently off-limits, because he claimed he was worried my taste in people might become corrupted. I'd always been sensitive, always hungry for affection. His possessiveness had felt like a gift. I drank it up like someone who'd spent twenty years dying of thirst in the desert, finally offered a glass of water laced with poison. Eventually, I became so accustomed to his attention that I'd get angry if he didn't reach for my hand first when we went shopping. I hadn't realized that something I treasured had become a burden to him. My phone chimed. I glanced down. Another message from Quinn. You've been rather naughty while I've been away. 03 My mind went completely blank. I froze where I stood, forgetting even how to breathe. Adrian turned around, looking puzzled. "Claire?" He called my name several times before I finally snapped out of it. I hurriedly put my phone away and forced a nervous smile. "I'm really not feeling well. I'd like to go home early." Perhaps he sensed that I was trying to hide something. His brows drew together, and he instinctively stepped toward me, reaching out as if to take my hand. Then, just as quickly, he seemed to reconsider. His arm slowly fell back to his side, and he shoved his hand into his pocket. "Oh. Okay." His expression remained flat. I heard his thoughts, sharp with irritation. This trick again. Does she ever get tired of herself? She's putting on a whole show just to get my attention. Does she seriously have nothing better to do all day? I stared at him. Then I gave a bitter little smile. Fine. I had, in fact, done something stupid like that before. By then, Adrian had already lost much of the enthusiasm he'd shown at the beginning of our relationship. I was constantly anxious, terrified that his feelings were fading. So, hoping to test his reaction and remind him that I was worth fighting for, I'd deliberately acted secretive, pretending I was chatting with another guy. At first, the trick had worked beautifully. Adrian had gotten so jealous that he'd practically interrogated me that very night, demanding to know who the man was. He'd come close to taking my phone apart. The next day, he'd practically forced his way into moving in with me. Behind my back, he'd even investigated whether any men were deliberately trying to get close to me. But it hadn't taken him long to realize the whole thing was staged. I still remembered the expression on his face when he found out. Disgust, edged with contempt. After that, he'd grown noticeably colder. A familiar female voice suddenly rang out behind us. "Adrian! Claire! Hey, what are you two doing here?" I turned. A woman named Holly was approaching with several guys. They'd all known Adrian since childhood. They were the kind of friends who'd grown up together and still treated one another like brothers. "So, what's the plan tonight?" Holly asked, slinging an arm around Adrian's shoulders. She waggled her eyebrows. "The guys are one short for a full squad. Gaming lounge?" One of the others laughed. "What gaming lounge? Do you even know what day it is? It's Valentine's Day!" Holly covered her mouth, pretending she'd only just remembered. "Oh, right! Valentine's Day!" She grinned at Adrian. "Guess our boy here has to behave himself and spend the evening with his girlfriend." Adrian glanced at me, his brow tightening almost imperceptibly. Shit. Here we go again. Every time she sees Holly, she gets that look on her face. She's going to make my life hell when we get home. I lowered my head. He wasn't wrong. I really did have a problem with Holly. 04 But it hadn't always been that way. Holly wasn't one of those fictional childhood friends who had no concept of personal space, clung to the male lead like a second skin, and needed a crowbar to be pried off him. She and Adrian had always seemed like ordinary friends. No crossing lines. No flirtatious little games. No calculated, sugary-sweet gestures designed to mark her territory. Even their teasing was perfectly measured. There was never anything obvious enough to criticize. Until the day I discovered that Adrian had casually drunk from a cup Holly had already used. I'd lost it. Adrian stood amid the mess I'd made, looking helplessly at the broken things scattered across the floor. "I grabbed the wrong cup. That's literally all that happened." He was so calm that I couldn't help wondering whether I'd overreacted. Eventually, I apologized. After that, Adrian became more careful. Nothing similar happened again. Not until Holly made a half-joking remark one day. "Whatever. Someone better not forget how I lost my first kiss." Adrian's expression twisted with disgust. He grabbed a cushion from the couch and threw it at her face. "Shut up. Don't ever bring that up again. That's disgusting." He'd told me more than once that he'd rather date a man than get into a relationship with Holly. And yet, I couldn't stop caring. I cared so much that I could almost sense the little challenges hidden beneath Holly's otherwise innocent behavior. After explaining himself one too many times, Adrian had finally lost patience. "I promise I'll never hang out with her alone again. But we've known each other for years. I can't just erase her from my life." He'd made his position clear. I hadn't had much left to say. In the past, I would've done exactly what Adrian expected me to do. I'd have threatened to break up with him, sulked, and demanded to know what was really going on between him and Holly. Adrian would've agreed to the breakup out of sheer irritation. Then, terrified by the consequences, I'd have come crawling back, begging him to take me back. A textbook case of pathetic devotion. But tonight, the thought that Quinn might be watching my every move from somewhere in the shadows had me shaking inside. If a man with Quinn's twisted, pathological need to possess me discovered that I'd started dating someone else while he was overseas... I couldn't even imagine what he'd do. He'd caught a knife with his bare hand three years ago. Who knew what he could do to a person now? Adrian wouldn't last one round against him. "Claire, I..." Adrian began hesitantly. I shuddered violently and nodded, doing my best to sound casual. "It's fine. You guys go ahead. I'm not feeling well anyway, so I'll head home." Then I hurried away. Like the devil himself was chasing me. Holly's smile faltered. She glanced at Adrian, surprise flickering across her face. Adrian watched me disappear, his brows slowly drawing together. 05 I spent the entire night terrified. The curtains were drawn tight. I'd locked the front door three times. I was convinced Quinn would materialize out of nowhere. But the hours passed, and nothing happened. At six the next morning, my phone vibrated. I opened it with trembling fingers. A message from our group chat. Holly had posted a photo. Adrian asleep. The lighting was dim and golden. Half his face was buried in a pillow, and his eyelashes were absurdly long. He looked completely at peace. Holly had added a caption. Woke up and got jumpscared by this ugly face. The background looked like a gaming hotel. Apparently, they'd pulled an all-nighter. And they'd slept in the same room. I sat up and rubbed my temples. I'd been so anxious the previous night that I'd forgotten to call Adrian and check on him. Normally, I'd have blown up his phone with calls and messages. But now, I couldn't even summon the energy to ask him a single question. Ding-dong. Someone knocked at the door. Every hair on my body stood on end. I nearly rolled straight off the bed. I crept toward the entrance and peered through the peephole. A delivery driver. I exhaled in relief and opened the door to sign for the package. That was when Quinn called. His voice was low and beautiful, exactly as I'd remembered it three years ago. "Happy Valentine's Day, baby. I got you something." My hand jerked. The box hit the floor with a soft thud. His voice slipped through the phone like a snake sliding through grass, dangerous and strangely seductive. "Open it. I think you'll like what's inside." Then he hung up. I sat on the floor for a long time, trying to work up the courage to look inside. I still couldn't bring myself to open the box. What if it contained a severed finger? A rib? An ear? Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. 06 I went back and forth in my head until I finally took a deep breath and called Adrian. He answered after a short delay, his voice rough with sleep. "What is it?" "Baby, I need to tell you something." I tried to sound serious. "My ex is back." There was a two-second silence. "Your ex?" He sounded a little more awake. "Yes." I nodded furiously, even though he couldn't see me. "My ex comes from a powerful, wealthy family. He's seriously loaded. And he's... kind of a psychopath. He's insanely possessive. If he finds out I'm dating you, he definitely won't leave us alone." The line went quiet. I held my breath, waiting for his response. I'd already rehearsed a hundred possibilities in my head. Shock. Fear. Jealousy. Anger. Maybe he'd rush over immediately to protect me. I hadn't expected him to laugh. It was a soft, almost mocking sound. "Claire." He said my name with such indifference that I barely recognized his voice. "Is this the new trick you've come up with?" I blinked. "What?" "You're getting revenge on me because I didn't spend Valentine's Day with you last night, so now you've invented an ex-boyfriend?" His voice was lazy with sleep, but there was a sharpness underneath it that I'd never heard quite so clearly before. "Holly called it. She knew you'd pull something like this." I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Holly. Holly. Holly. Her name echoed through my head like some cursed incantation. "No, I'm serious! He's really back. His name is Quinn, and he—" "Enough." Adrian's voice turned cold. "I'm hanging up." Beep. Beep. Beep. I stood motionless. Fine. He could believe whatever he wanted. Right now, I had a much more immediate problem to deal with. I shakily texted Quinn. We've already broken up. His reply came almost instantly. I never agreed to that. I gathered what little courage I had left and typed again. Well... I have a boyfriend now. This time, the reply took much longer. So long that I started to worry he'd crushed his phone in his bare hand. Finally, his message appeared. I didn't agree to that, either. I sank into a crouch, wrapped my arms around my head, and let out a strangled scream. AAAAAAAAH! Could he please stop loving me quite so much?! It had been three years! THREE YEARS! Was he seriously coming back to sweep me off my feet by force all over again?! There were so many tall, blond, blue-eyed women overseas. Was there really not a single one he liked?! 07 Since my boyfriend was apparently useless, I decided to go to the police. I brought screenshots of Quinn's messages, along with the cardboard box he'd sent me, to the local police station. There was nothing particularly frightening inside. Just a necklace. An obscenely expensive necklace. A delicate platinum chain held a flawless blue diamond. I couldn't identify the brand, but I knew the kind of money I was looking at. This was the sort of jewelry that could put a luxury apartment in the middle of downtown around your neck. The officer looked through my screenshots, then carefully returned the necklace to its velvet box. His expression was complicated. "What exactly do you want us to do with this? Has he hit you? Threatened you? He sent you an expensive gift. What crime are you reporting? This doesn't even qualify as sexual harassment on its own." I had no answer. Quinn was a lunatic, but aside from his obsessive surveillance throughout our relationship and that one time he'd caught a knife with his bare hand, he hadn't actually inflicted any physical harm on me. "Romantic disputes aren't something we can intervene in without a clearer basis," the officer said, sliding the velvet box back toward me. "If he actually shows up and threatens you, call 911. And take good care of that necklace." I trudged home, thoroughly defeated. I didn't dare wear the necklace. For all I knew, he'd hidden a tracking device inside it. The next few days passed in a state of nervous anticipation. Yet Quinn never appeared. Not until Adrian messaged me and asked me to come to his birthday gathering at a bar. Today was his birthday. Forgetting it had been my fault. But the way he'd humiliated me on the phone, the way he'd refused to believe me, was still fresh in my mind. I'd been so angry that I'd blocked him. Then I remembered it was his birthday and hesitantly unblocked him. Whatever. I'd break up with him after his birthday. At least that way, we could end things with some dignity. I washed my face, changed clothes, and headed out.