The Line We Were Never Meant to Cross — Part 3

I woke up alone.
That should have relieved me.
Instead, panic clawed its way up my throat before my eyes were even fully open. The apartment felt wrong—too quiet, too empty, like something essential had been removed.
Then I saw it.
A note on the kitchen counter. Neat handwriting. His.
Don’t move. I’ll be back soon.
No explanation. No apology.
Just certainty.
I sat up slowly, heart pounding. The clock read 6:47 a.m. I didn’t remember falling asleep. Only his weight behind me. His voice low and commanding. The way he held me like escape wasn’t an option.
I told myself I was not afraid.
That was another lie.
I moved anyway.
Bare feet on cold tile, I crossed the apartment and checked the door. Locked. From the outside.
My breath hitched.
I rattled the handle once—softly. Then harder.
Nothing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered.
The windows were sealed. The phone on the table beside the couch was not mine. Mine was gone.
A chill slid down my spine.
This wasn’t passion anymore. This was control.
The sound of keys at the door made me spin around.
Aarav stepped inside like this was the most normal morning in the world. Fresh clothes. Calm expression. Coffee cup in hand.
“You locked me in,” I said, my voice sharper than I felt.
He looked at me for a long moment. Studied me.
“I kept you safe,” he replied.
“From what?” I demanded.
“From leaving,” he said simply.
The honesty was worse than any excuse.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I snapped. “You crossed a line.”
He set the coffee down slowly, deliberately, like sudden movements might shatter something fragile between us.
“I told you,” he said. “If you stayed, it wouldn’t be clean.”
Anger flared—but beneath it was something darker. Something I didn’t want to name.
“Let me go,” I said.
He walked toward me. Not rushed. Not threatening. That was the terrifying part.
“You could go,” he said quietly. “If you really wanted to.”
I laughed, bitter. “The door was locked.”
“And now it’s not.”
He stepped aside.
The door stood open behind him.
My chest tightened.
“You think I won’t leave?” I asked.
“I think you won’t,” he said. “Because you already tried running once. And you came back.”
I hated that he was right.
I grabbed my jacket and walked past him anyway, heart racing, every step daring him to stop me.
He didn’t.
Not until my hand was on the doorframe.
“You won’t find what you’re looking for out there,” he said softly. “You already know that.”
I froze.
Because I did know.
I turned back slowly. “This isn’t love,” I said. “This is obsession.”
His mouth curved slightly. “Those are often confused.”
I should’ve walked out.
Instead, I asked, “Why me?”
That broke something in him.
His control slipped—just for a second. His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened.
“Because you don’t look away from the parts of me everyone else avoids,” he said. “Because you don’t try to fix me. Because you see me—and stay.”
“You locked me in,” I whispered.
“I wanted to see if you’d still choose me when you felt trapped,” he replied.
“That’s twisted.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
“You scare me,” I said finally.
He stepped closer. Stopped just short of touching me.
“Good,” he murmured. “Fear keeps you honest.”
Something in me cracked.
“You don’t get to own me,” I said. “I’m not yours to claim.”
“No,” he said softly. “You’re not an object.”
“Then what am I?”
His voice dropped. “You’re my weakness.”
That was worse.
Days passed like that—tension wrapped around us like a tightening wire. He didn’t touch me unless I reached for him first. Didn’t stop me from leaving. Didn’t raise his voice.
But he watched.
Always watched.
He knew when I was thinking about running. Knew when doubt crept in. He’d speak just enough to pull me back.
“You feel it too,” he’d say.
“You don’t belong to the safe version of life.”
“You’d be bored without me.”
And the worst part?
He was right.
One night, I asked him, “What happens if I leave?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
When he finally did, his voice was calm. Almost gentle.
“Then I’ll let you go,” he said. “And I’ll destroy anyone who tries to replace me in your mind.”
My blood went cold.
“You don’t mean that.”
He smiled faintly. “Try me.”
That was the moment I understood.
This wasn’t a love story with a happy ending.
This was a descent.
And I was already too deep to climb out.
I didn’t leave.
I stepped closer instead.
And in his eyes, I saw victory.

Part 4 coming soon!!!!