e Nixo

be ridiculous! Where are you going?" His hand cl

my arm free, my movements precise an

always do this. Get a little upset, then storm off. But you always come back." He sounded so

d disappear into work, into meetings, into his phone. He' d leave me to stew in my own feelings, convinced tha

oment of neglect. They were etched onto my soul, a

new bakery space in Portland. It was a small, char

t friend, asked, her voice laced with concern, but a

I replied, a sting of old hurt in my word

high-end patisserie. We were broke, sharing ramen noodles and dreams in a tiny studio apartment. I remembered one night, a storm had knocked out the

d. And I admired that. I truly did. But somewhere along the line, t

und that never truly healed. She' d promised to come back, but never did. That abandonment shaped me, made me desperate for conn

emembered one particularly steamy love scene from his breakout film. It was just acting, he' d insisted. "It's my job, Adeline

ou, I'm busy. Don't call me when I'm working." He' d made me feel like an inconvenience, an obstacle to his success. And then, the gas

blurring the lines between reality and fiction, it was draining me. It was making me question my sanity. I began to check his phone, to scro

I told you? Don't you trust me at all?" He made me feel like the villain, the one who was destroying our relationship wi

the reassurances he' d whispered, they were all empty. He hadn't just forgotten my birthday; he'd actively chosen someon