a P

glass before it was half empty, cut her steak into bite-sized pieces, and leaned in attentively every time she spoke, his gaze never leaving her face.

s the table to gently pat his hand. Her touch lin

of tender vulnerability. He had gently, almost imperceptibly, pulled away, his expression unreadable. "Just Dawson, little bird,"

s pranks and adorable antics as a boy. "Oh, Dawson, remember that time you tried to bake Mom a cake and put salt

n his face, as if reliving the cherished memories. That was the smile I had always craved, the genuine warmth th

Every inquiry I had made, gentle and tentative, had been met with a vague shrug or a quick

sy me!" she exclaimed, a tiny drop of red blooming on her perfect

d with genuine alarm. Then, with a tenderness that stole my breath, he brought her finger to his lips, gently kissing the tiny wound. "

d panic. Not even when I had accidentally cut myself badly in the kitchen, slicing my

raw, primal desire. The blood drained from my face. I was just a prescription. Arleen, his 'goddess,' was the real thing. The truth, in that moment, wa

"Happy early birthday, darling," he said, his eyes shining with adoration. Inside lay a diamond neckla

houldn't have! It's exquisite!" She leaned in and kissed his cheek

love so potent it was almost tangible. It was a gaz

ught on my wrist. "Oh, Dora," she said, her voice dripping with care

en in my family. The only tangible link to my past, the only thing I had woken up with in this modern world. It was sim

tern. "It's quite lovely, isn't it?" he said to Arleen, ignoring my explanation. "Dora

lost family, the only piece of my true identity? "I... I can't, Dawson," I stammered, my

e silly, Dora. It's just a trinket. Arleen admires it. It would be rude to refuse." He

n. Please. It's truly important to me." My voice was

led, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't mak

n't dream of taking something so sentimental from Dora. Perhaps she can loan it to me for a short while, just to admire it properl

s being gracious. Just for a loan." He gave me a look tha

al dismissal of its value, the blatant demand to hand over my only link to my past, was a f

around me an unbearable mockery. My appetite was gone. My love for Dawson, once

the pavement, quickly turning the street into a chaotic mess. Dawson rushed to open the door for Arleen

with residual anger from the locket incident. "Ge

fingers. "Don't you ever defy me again," he hissed, his eyes blazing w

e laced with what sounded like genuine conc

eds a lesson in obedience, Arleen. Sometimes, a little discomfor

le in her eyes, a mixture of pity and smug satisfactio

through the rearview mirror, his eyes cold and unforgiving. He then sped away, sendin

streamed down my face. My mind flashed back to a memory, a false promise he had once given me

ness of the street, a cruel