Chapter 2Stripped of My Safety Net

I held the bottle out to him, my throat so raw it physically hurt to speak.

“Ethan... where is my medication?”

He didn’t even look up from his screen.

“I swapped it.”

I braced myself against the back of the sofa, my knuckles turning white.

“My chest hurts. My head feels like it’s splitting open. Please, give me my medication.”

Ethan finally looked up, his brow furrowing in deep annoyance.

“Chloe analyzed your dosage. You’ve exceeded the safe therapeutic window. You’ve developed a severe chemical dependency.”

Chloe stepped out of the master bedroom hallway.

“Mia, utilizing a placebo is a highly standard supplementary protocol. You need to start trusting your own psychological resilience.”

Ethan snatched the bottle from my shaking hand and dropped a single candy piece back into my palm.

“Just eat this. Push through the night, and you’ll feel better tomorrow. Stop treating yourself like an invalid.”

A violent wave of nausea hit my stomach. I gripped the edge of the coffee table, dry heaving aggressively.

He stood up, clearly losing the last shred of his patience.

“I have a massive board meeting tomorrow morning. Do not drag this tantrum out all night.”

I dropped to my knees on the rug, my fingers digging desperately into the corner of the coffee table.

“Ethan, please.”

His footsteps hitched for a fraction of a second.

Chloe murmured softly, “Ethan, she is testing your boundaries.”

His spine immediately stiffened. He walked past me and pushed the master bedroom door open.

“Process your emotions on your own.”

Click. The deadbolt locked.

I lay face-down in the pitch-black living room, listening to my own breathing grow more and more erratic, gasping for air that wouldn't fill my lungs.

I remained curled in a tight, shivering ball on the rug until the sun came up.

The next morning, Ethan walked over and tossed a cocktail dress onto the coffee table.

He looked down at me, still trembling on the floor, his voice entirely devoid of emotion.

“Get dressed. We’re taking Chloe out for a welcome-back lunch.”

I shook my head, my throat so constricted I couldn't form a complete word.

The agonizing withdrawal symptoms from the abruptly stopped medication were ravaging my body. Even the faint mechanical hum of the elevator outside in the hallway sent a stabbing pain through my eardrums.

Ethan bent down, clamped his hand around my wrist, and forcefully dragged me up off the floor.

“Exposure therapy is the most clinically proven method. You cannot spend the rest of your life rotting in this apartment.”

I stumbled forward, entirely off balance. A dark red bruise was already forming around my wrist where he gripped me.

“I’m not going. Not today. I can't.”

Chloe leaned out from the kitchen doorway, her tone sweet and coaxing.

“Mia, avoiding the trigger only magnifies the phobia. You need to show Ethan that you're making an effort.”

Ethan glanced at her, his eyes softening for a microsecond.

When he looked back at me, his grip on my wrist tightened significantly.

“Be a good girl. Don’t make this difficult for me.”

The lighting in the private dining room was blindingly bright.

Around the large circular table sat a dozen of Ethan’s closest friends—the same people who had watched him dedicate the last three years to keeping me alive.

When I walked in, someone immediately laughed and called out:

“Wow, the bride finally left the tower! Ethan, you've really been going through it these last three years, man.”

I sat in the farthest corner of the room, violently twisting the fabric of my skirt in my lap. My chest was seizing up in tight, painful spasms.

Chloe held a glass of warm water, walked over, and stood right next to my chair. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was perfectly pitched to ensure the entire table heard her.

“Guys, please don’t look at Mia like she’s a patient. Excessive sympathy only reinforces her victim complex. She’s actually incredibly healthy now. Isn't that right, Mia?”

A dozen pairs of eyes locked onto me.

I opened my mouth, but only a faint, broken wheeze came out.

Sitting right next to Chloe, Ethan rhythmically tapped his finger against his water glass.

“Say something. Stop forcing everyone else to cover for your awkwardness.”

A guy across the table snorted.

“It’s depression, not terminal cancer. Mia, give it a rest already.”

“Seriously, Ethan’s been orbiting you 24/7 for years. Anyone would be exhausted.”

“Chloe gets back, and within a week she has Mia out in public acting normal. Having a professional around makes a massive difference.”

Every single word they said drove into my brain like a rusted nail.

I clamped my hands over my ears, my entire body convulsing with uncontrollable tremors.

Chloe leaned down, gently placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Look, the avoidance mechanism is activating. Don’t panic, guys, we’re actively desensitizing her.”

Her designer perfume assaulted my senses.

It was the exact same perfume I had smelled on Ethan’s collar last night.