things she used to bring up sounded bad, I’d explain them away because of course stuff seemed bad if you took it out of context.
You can’t just pick and choose what you want to remember and skim over the rest.
But unfortunately, it looks like I did precisely that. I chose not to see what was right in front of me.
But now, I know.
What Lucas and I had was not right.
My whole life had changed when we got together. It was wonderful at first. He showered me with affection, built me up, and pampered my heart until I fell so hard and so fast that I would have done anything for him—and I did. It started with me turning down my university placement. I barely gave it a second thought because choosing between him or my dream, he won every time. After that, I stopped seeing my friends because he didn’t like them. I lost contact with everyone, except Aubrey—and that was only because the stubborn wench refused to be ghosted. Lucas managed to slyly cut me off from everyone and everything I knew, isolated me until I thought all I needed was him, all the while making me love him so much that I didn’t even care or question it. He controlled every aspect of my life—our money, where we went, where I worked, who I saw, what I wore—and I let him.
Over the first couple of years of our relationship, he built me up, only to systematically tear me down after that until I was so dependent on him, so in tune with his will, that I thought it was what I wanted too. He conditioned me with little digs, passive-aggressive comments about my appearance, my achievements, flaws in my personality, following them up with loving kisses and smiles and I’m only kidding, sweetheart or Can’t you take a joke comments, so I didn’t even notice he was oppressing me. Slowly, he broke my confidence and my spirit, moulded me until I was his idea of perfect. But even that wasn’t enough. Even after I pandered to his every whim and hung on his every word, he still went and cheated.
The realisation feels like I’ve been struck in the heart. I press my hand to my forehead and suck in a deep breath. Everything I thought I knew about him—about us—has shifted. I can see it clearly now, all the ways he hurt me, manipulated me, ground me down. He never raised a hand to me, never physically hurt me, apart from some rough kisses or sex if we were fighting, but emotionally, he’s scarred me.
I always thought Lucas was my Mr Right. Instead, he was my Mr Oh-So Wrong, and I never knew until now.
“This”—I wave a hand between us—“this isn’t healthy. This isn’t right, Lucas. You’re a manipulative arsehole, you know that? You controlled every aspect of my life. You lorded over me like my keeper and had me dancing around, trying to please you, so afraid of not being what you wanted that I forgot all about what I wanted. You crushed me, Lucas. Crushed my spirit, and I never even realised.”
He makes a disbelieving scoffing sound in his throat. “Don’t be obtuse! Jesus, you’ve always been so dramatic. I thought you’d grown out of your immature phase.” He rolls his eyes and steps closer to me, reaching out to grip my upper arm again, pulling me against his body. “So, I might be signed into your social media. So what? It’s not like I meant any harm. I was just checking what you were up to, making sure you were safe so I could step in and take care of you if you needed my help. I was looking out for you, like I always do. I love you, Lucie. Always have. You and I are meant to be. I need you, and you need me. We’re nothing without each other.”
I gulp, and … I almost believe him. When he gives me the puppy-dog eyes and his hand strokes my waist, I almost bloody fall for it again.
But he’s wrong. I am something. I am worth something. Over the last three months, I’ve slowly taken my life back, put the broken pieces of myself back together again, summoned inner strength I didn’t know I still had, and I’ve kept calm and carried on.
The old Lucie that Lucas had long since squashed and suppressed has started to resurface in the months we’ve been apart. Steadily creeping