TWELVE

Yalda wasn't sure how long she had remained there on her knees. She wasn't sure how long she had cried for, or how long it had taken her soul to stop craving Alexander's presence. But eventually, she had pulled herself together and gone to the bathroom to take a cold shower.

She had gone to bed that night with thoughts of Alexander on her mind, and she had dreamt of him until the very second she opened her eyes the next morning. She concluded then and there that he had her on a tight leash; he had a hold on her that she couldn't break free from.

It was the weekend, and whatever plans she had made didn't seem appealing anymore; nothing else did. She hadn't had breakfast, and neither had she had lunch. It seemed she had lost her appetite after yesterday's breakdown.

It was far into the day when her phone pinged, indicating a reply from the text she had sent to her acquaintances yesterday. It was from Riley, the one person she actually related well with among her acquaintances. Riley had been expecting a baby the last time she had spoken to her, which had been a year ago.

She tapped on the notification to display the message.

**Riley:**
*Hi girl! So sorry about not responding sooner, I only just saw your message. It's probably too late now, but I'd love to hang out! Call me!*

She blew out a breath as she set her phone aside, unenergetic. She was in no mood to hang out; she was in no mood to do anything at all. That was what she told herself, but she was certain she'd go running to Alexander if he called her right now. She was certain she'd feel better just being in his presence.

She couldn't understand what he was doing to her, or what he had done to her; she could only hope it was undoable. But the question remained: did she want it undone? Did she want this to come to an end?

She needed help and she knew it. She was in a genuinely toxic relationship, but she didn't want it to come to an end; it hurt, but it hurt so good. She was literally addicted to all the hurt he caused her, she was addicted to him, she was obsessed with him, and she was losing her mind.

Lying there on her couch, she felt trapped, enclosed within an invisible box that suffocated her with every second. But there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

The wretched mood had lasted throughout the weekend. Monday was even worse because she had to pull herself together and put on her facade of flawlessness regardless of feeling shattered; she had barely eaten all weekend, sustaining herself with water and coffee.

She had been crying herself to sleep since Friday night, and she was about getting tired of it all. She felt unhealthy, but a part of her was sure she'd feel better if Alexander wished to make her feel better; she was depending on him to make her feel better.

It wasn't just about his touch or how he fucked her, it was about everything. It was his voice, how he would say a thing or two to her when she was down and feeling like shit. It was about how he would hug her, how secure she would feel in his embrace. It was how he would tell her that she was safe with him, that she needn't worry about anything because he would take care of it.

Her drive to the office confirmed that she was truly unwell today; she had spaced out a couple of times while driving, something that had never happened before. She decided that she wouldn't be driving herself around until she sorted out her problems.

On getting to her desk, she set her stuff down before heading to Alexander's office. She opened the door and stepped in like she usually did, and as expected, he was seated at his desk with his eyes glued to the screen of his MacBook.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted quietly.

His gaze flickered to hers, and he took in her appearance quickly like he always did. "Good morning, Ms. Harris," he replied.

"Will you be needing anything at the moment, sir?" she asked him.

He shook his head. And she felt a pang of disappointment.

She nodded nonetheless. "I'll be at my desk then," she said.

With that, she turned around and began walking to the door, but then, she decided that she couldn't do this; she couldn't pretend all was fine when she was losing her mind, when she was dying. She turned around to face him once more.

"We need to talk," she said quietly.

He arched a brow slightly. "What about?" he asked her.

Her heart began pounding against her chest heavily, and her palms started to become sweaty. "Our relationship," she replied.

"At the office?" he asked her. "Weren't you one for strictly keeping things professional here?"

She shook her head. She didn't want things to be professional now. "Please," she said quietly.

He probably realized that she wasn't quite herself today because he leaned back in his seat, signaling that she had his full attention.

"Come have a seat," he said.

She dragged in a shuddering breath as she made her way over to his desk and settled down in the seat opposite his.

"Talk to me," he said once she was settled.

She found herself unable to hold his gaze as she began thinking of what to say. There was a lot on her mind; she had a lot she wanted to say, but she just didn't know how to express herself. But she tried nonetheless.

"I... I'm worried," she began quietly.

"Look at me," he said. And she forced herself to meet his gaze. "What are you worried about?"

"Everything," she replied.

"You'll have to be a bit more specific, Yalda," he said to her.

She let out a shuddering breath in hopes that it would calm her. "I... I don't feel safe anymore," she told him, and as she spoke, she felt tears sting the back of her eyes. "I... I'm confused."

"And you kept this to yourself," he said as he shook his head. "Come here, Yalda."

That was probably all she needed to hear. She abandoned her seat at once and walked over to him.

"You're safe, you know that, don't you?" he said as he took her hand and guided her to sit on his lap.

Did she? She wasn't sure anymore.

He wrapped his arms around her as she leaned against his chest. "Don't you, Yalda?" he asked her.

"I don't know anymore," she said quietly.

He rubbed her back soothingly as he planted a kiss on her shoulder. "Why? What's changed?" he asked her.

That was the same question she had been asking herself for a while now. She had asked herself so much that she was almost getting tired.

"I... I don't know," she replied honestly. "I just don't feel alright anymore."

He nudged her head up to face him fully. "I didn't change; I can't. Perhaps you did," he said. "I'd suggest you sort out your feelings. After all, what we have is a 'no strings attached' thing."

Yes, she knew. But there were strings now, and they were woven into her soul. She felt everything for him, everything there was to feel.

"What we have is toxic," she said quietly.

She blinked, and the first streams of tears went streaking down her cheeks. He wasted no time in wiping them off.

"And you love it, don't you?" he asked her.

She did, and she loved him. She was helpless. She blinked, and more tears fell.

"It's killing me," she cried quietly.

"Shhh. Don't cry," he said as he wiped her tears once more. "Don't cry."

There was something reassuring about how he was holding her, something reassuring about his voice. He wasn't saying anything to actually make her feel better; he wasn't addressing the issues that bothered her, yet he was making her feel better. He was being toxic like always.

"You're fine," he said to her. "You're alright."

She nodded like the fool she was.

"I just need to know; are you this way to just me?" she asked him quietly.

"What way?" he in turn asked.

"You know what way," she replied.

He stared at her for a moment before nodding once. What was she to make of that?

"Why?" she asked him.

Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and undecipherable.

"Enough of the Q&A session," he said as his hand ventured down her curves sensually. Her volatile body responded to his touch immediately. "Let me fix you."