What You Did
Willow's POV
The ride was quiet, but it wasn't the same kind of silence as before. This one felt heavier, sharper, like it was holding something back instead of settling into stillness. Ethan didn't speak when I got into the car, didn't ask how my shift was, didn't look at me the way he usually did. His focus stayed forward, his hands tight around the wheel, his jaw locked so hard it made something uneasy settle deep in my chest.
The tension wasn't loud, but it was there, pressing in from all sides, suffocating in a way that made it impossible to ignore. I told myself not to overthink it, not to let my thoughts spiral into something worse, but the feeling only grew stronger the longer the silence stretched between us.
I shifted slightly in my seat, my fingers curling together in my lap as I tried to steady my breathing, but it didn't help. The air inside the car felt thick, like something was building, something waiting for the right moment to break. I glanced at him, just for a second, and the moment I did, I saw it.
Something was different, not just distant or tense, but darker, colder. His expression was unreadable in the worst way, like whatever he was thinking, he had already decided on it. He noticed me looking, I knew he did, but he didn't turn or react. He just kept driving, like he was waiting.
When the car finally stopped outside my apartment, the silence didn't ease. If anything, it settled deeper, heavier, like the moment we had both been avoiding had finally caught up to us. The engine turned off slowly, the quiet that followed almost deafening. For a second, neither of us moved. I reached for the door handle, my instincts screaming at me to leave, to get out before whatever this was could fully unfold, but his voice stopped me before I could open it. "Stay," he said, his tone low and controlled, not a request but something closer to a command, and my hand froze instantly.
He turned his head slightly toward me then, his gaze finally meeting mine, sharp and unyielding. "Do you want to tell me now," he said slowly, "or are you going to lie again?" The words hit harder than I expected, deliberate and cutting, leaving no space to pretend I didn't understand. I turned to face him fully, my chest tightening as I held his gaze, finding nothing soft there, no warmth, no hesitation, just something cold and controlled that made it clear he wasn't asking anymore.
"I already explained that to you," I said, forcing the words out, even though they felt weak against the weight in his eyes.
His jaw tightened slightly, just enough to show it didn't matter. "I saw you," he said quietly, and the words dropped between us like something irreversible.
My breath caught. "At the parking structure," he continued, his voice steady, controlled in a way that made it worse. "There are cameras." My heart started beating faster, too fast, everything inside me tightening as the reality of it settled in. "I watched you walk away," he added, his eyes never leaving mine now. "I watched you look at him like you knew exactly who he was."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, but even to me, the words sounded thinner this time, like they didn't hold the weight they were supposed to.
A quiet, humorless exhale left him, something almost like a laugh but colder. "You're a terrible liar," he muttered, shaking his head slightly before his gaze sharpened again. "I was awake the other night," he said, and the words hit instantly, knocking the air out of me before I could react. "You weren't as quiet as you thought," he continued, his voice dropping lower, quieter, but somehow more dangerous. "I heard him." His eyes darkened slightly as he said it, watching me carefully. "He said your name."
Everything inside me went still, my body locking in place as his words settled over me, heavier than anything else he had said. I couldn't speak, couldn't move, because that—more than anything—was impossible to explain. He watched me for a long moment, like he was waiting for me to deny it, to twist it into something else, but I had nothing left to say. "You lied to me," he said finally, and this time his voice shifted, losing the distance it had held before, becoming sharper, closer, heavier. "You looked me in the eye and lied."
The silence that followed wasn't empty anymore. It was thick, suffocating, filled with everything that had just been said and everything that hadn't. This wasn't just an argument anymore. This was something else entirely, something darker, something that felt like it was shifting into a place we couldn't come back from. And the way he looked at me made it impossible to ignore, because it wasn't just anger anymore. It was something far worse.
I tried to respond, but the moment I opened my mouth, something in him snapped, not completely, but enough to shift the air between us into something sharp and dangerous. "Don't," he cut in, his voice rising just slightly, but it was enough to reveal what was underneath all that control. "Don't lie to me again." I flinched without meaning to, the reaction immediate and instinctive, and I hated it, hated that he saw it, even if he didn't react to it. I hadn't meant to lie again, not really, but the truth felt impossible to say, and somehow that only made everything worse.
"I'm not—" I started, but he stepped closer, his expression tightening. "You met him," he said, his tone sharper now, more certain. "You stood there like you knew him. Like you've known him for a while." His eyes searched mine like he was trying to force something out of me, something I wasn't giving him, and no matter what I said, I could already feel it wouldn't matter.
"That's not true," I said, but the words felt weak the second they left my mouth, like they carried no weight at all. His reaction was instant. "Then explain it," he demanded, his voice louder now, the restraint finally slipping as the anger pushed through. "Explain why you looked at him like that." I shook my head slightly, my heart beating too fast. "I don't even know him," I said, forcing the words out, but it only made things worse.
I saw it in his face, the way something darker settled there, something colder. "You expect me to believe that?" he snapped, his voice cutting through the space between us. "You looked at him like you belonged to him." The words hit harder than anything else, twisting something deep in my chest in a way I couldn't explain. "I didn't," I whispered, barely louder than a breath, but it didn't matter. Either he didn't hear me, or he chose not to.
"Get out," he said suddenly, the words sharp and abrupt enough to make me freeze. For a second, I thought I had misunderstood, but then his eyes hardened further. "I said get out." There was no hesitation in his voice now, no room to argue. I didn't fight it. I didn't say anything else. I just reached for the door and stepped out into the cool night air, my heart racing as instinct told me to move, to create distance, to get away before whatever this was turned into something worse. I barely made it a few steps.
The door slammed behind me, loud and final, and before I could react, his hand closed around my arm, his grip tight and unyielding as he yanked me back. I gasped softly, the force of it catching me off guard as I stumbled. "Ethan—" I tried, but his fingers tightened immediately, digging into my skin. "You're not walking away from this," he said, his voice low now, controlled again, but in a way that felt far more dangerous than before. He didn't give me a chance to pull away, dragging me toward the building like my resistance meant nothing. "Let go," I said, trying to twist out of his grip, but it only made him hold tighter.
"I don't want to go inside." He didn't stop. Didn't even slow down. "You don't get to decide that right now," he muttered, his voice dropping further, quieter, but heavier. "Ethan, stop," I said again, more firmly this time, but it didn't change anything. His grip only tightened as he pulled me forward, forcing me to move with him.
The door slammed open, the sound echoing too loudly in the confined space, and suddenly I was inside, the shift immediate and suffocating. The air felt different here, heavier, like the walls themselves were closing in. His grip loosened just enough for me to stumble forward, my balance slipping as I caught myself, my breath uneven.
I turned quickly, instinctively trying to put space between us, but there wasn't enough room. There was nowhere to go. "What's wrong with you?" I asked, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it, the fear slipping through before I could stop it.
His expression twisted at that, something dark flashing across his face as he stepped closer again, slow and deliberate. "What's wrong with me?" he repeated, his tone almost mocking, but there was nothing amused about it.
"You sneak around, you lie to me, and you're asking me what's wrong with me?" His presence felt overwhelming now, too close, too much, making it harder to think clearly. "I didn't sneak around," I said, even though the words felt useless the second I spoke them. "I didn't—" "Stop," he snapped, cutting me off again, his voice sharper now. "Do you really think I didn't see it?" he continued, stepping even closer, his gaze locked onto mine in a way that made it impossible to look away. "The way you looked at him. The way you didn't even try to hide it."
"I don't know him," I said again, my voice quieter now, but steadier than before, even as my chest tightened. It didn't matter. I could see it in his eyes before he even spoke. He didn't believe me. Not even a little. And nothing I said was going to change that.
I stepped back, and he stepped forward, the distance between us disappearing too quickly as the tension snapped into something violent, something raw and uncontrolled. "You're mine," he said, the words sharp, absolute, cutting through everything else, and something inside me recoiled instantly. "No," I tried to say, the denial barely leaving my lips
Before I could move, his hand shot out and grabbed me, his fingers wrapping around my neck as he yanked me closer.
The force of it stole the air from my lungs instantly, my body jolting as he pulled me into him. "I treated you so good. I loved you, and this is what I get in return?" His voice was rough, shaking with something unstable, something that made my chest tighten in fear. "You asked me to wait for the wedding night, but you look like you're ready to give yourself to him." His grip tightened, cutting off my breath as he lifted me slightly off the ground with one hand, my legs kicking helplessly as I tried to drag air into my lungs.
All I could see was his eyes. The jealousy. The obsession. The hatred burning inside them like fire, like it was ready to burn everything down, including me. "You slept with him, didn't you?" he said, and those words hurt more than anything else. A sharp, crushing pain spread through my chest, heavier than the lack of air, heavier than his grip. I loved him. I had loved him for so long, and now he was looking at me like I was something filthy, something disposable. Tears streamed down my face as I clawed at his hand, trying to pry his fingers away from my throat, desperate for air, desperate to speak, to tell him the truth.
Suddenly, he let go.
I dropped to the ground, collapsing onto my knees as I gasped for air, dragging it into my lungs in broken, uneven breaths. My body shook violently, my vision blurred with tears as I tried to steady myself, but I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't stop the overwhelming realization crashing down on me. How could someone I loved, someone I chose, become this cruel? Become this person I didn't recognize anymore?
He stood over me, his anger still boiling, still alive in a way that made the air feel suffocating. I knew I had to move. I knew I had to get out before it got worse. Survival pushed through the fear, sharp and urgent. I forced myself to my feet, my body unsteady but driven, my eyes darting toward my backpack as I prepared to grab it and run.
I didn't get the chance.
The moment I turned, his hand was on me again. One hand wrapped around my neck, the other pressing against my stomach as he pulled me back into him, forcing me against his body. The grip was tight, unrelenting, like he was trying to keep me there, like he wasn't going to let me go no matter what. He dragged me closer, so close it felt suffocating, like he was trying to force us into one being, leaving no space between us.
Then his hand on my stomach moved.
It slid lower, slipping beneath my dress.
"You like it dirty, don't you? You slut. That's what you like. That's why you ran after that bastard." His voice was low, twisted with something that made my stomach turn. I cried harder, the sound breaking out of me without control, my entire body trembling as I tried to pull away, but it was impossible. I was too small, too weak against him, my strength useless against his grip.
"Stop, please," I cried, my voice shaking, desperate, but it didn't matter. If anything, it only seemed to make it worse. There was something in his expression, something that looked like he was enjoying it, like my fear was feeding whatever this was inside him. I could feel the hardness of him pressing against me, and the realization made everything inside me twist with disgust.
"I know you like it," he continued, his voice quieter now, darker. "Maybe if I did this sooner, you would have let me enjoy you."
His words made something inside me snap.
Without thinking, I lifted my heel and slammed it down onto his foot as hard as I could. The reaction was instant. His grip loosened just enough, just for a second, and I twisted away, trying to move, trying to get free. But he was faster. His hand shot out again, grabbing my wrist and yanking me back, spinning me around until I was facing him.
I stumbled, barely catching my balance, my chest heaving, my entire body shaking as I looked up at him. And I didn't recognize the man standing in front of me. Not at all.
" You are monster"
I tried to say, the denial barely leaving my lips before his hand struck me , harder than before. The impact sent me sideways, pain exploding across my face as my vision blurred.
I hit the edge of the shoe cabinet before falling, the force knocking the air from my lungs as I collapsed to the floor. For a second, everything felt distant and too close at the same time, sound muffled, my surroundings spinning in a way that made it hard to focus on anything. But it didn't stop. He was still there, still moving, his anger filling the space like something alive.
"You think I don't see it?" he shouted, his voice rough, unrestrained in a way I had never heard before. "You think I don't know what's going on?" I tried to push myself up, my hands shaking, my body slow to respond as pain spread through me, sharp and disorienting.
"Ethan…" I called, my voice weak, barely steady enough to form his name, but he didn't hear me, or maybe he chose not to. "Don't—" I tried again, but the words never finished, because the next удар came faster, harder, sending everything spinning again. My head snapped to the side, a ringing filling my ears as something warm spread across my skin, something I didn't want to recognize. My fingers trembled as I pressed them against the floor, trying to ground myself, but nothing felt stable anymore. Nothing felt real.
I forced myself to look up at him, my vision unsteady, and for a second, I didn't recognize the person standing in front of me. The man I knew, the one who had made me feel safe, who had given me space, who had been careful with me, wasn't there. In his place was someone else entirely, someone darker, someone consumed by something I couldn't reach. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice low now, dangerous in a way that made my chest tighten.
"Tell me you don't want him." The words twisted something inside me, sharp and painful. "I don't," I managed, my voice breaking despite everything I tried to hold in. "I don't even know him."
It didn't matter.
I could see it in his eyes before he even moved again. He didn't believe me. Not even a little.
Fear took over completely then, my body curling inward without thought, instinct replacing everything else as survival became the only thing that mattered. I tried to move back, to create space, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape him, the room suddenly feeling too small, too closed in. My breath came uneven, my chest tight, my entire body trembling in a way I couldn't control.
And then I felt it.
That same presence.
That same shift in the air.
Stronger than before. Closer than it had ever been.
Something inside my chest tightened suddenly, sharp and overwhelming, like my body recognized it before my mind could catch up. My breath caught mid-inhale, my fingers pressing weakly against the floor as the feeling hit all at once, undeniable and real.
He was there.