Chapter 6: Relieved

And so the days and weeks went on like that.

Marceline stopped counting them, because counting meant acknowledging time was passing and time was supposed to bring healing. But nothing healed inside her, nothing softened, and nothing changed, except that everything grew heavier.

Morning always arrived too quietly.

The sun would spill through the curtains mocking the reality of what this house had become. The world outside continued as if nothing was wrong. Cars passed, neighbors laughed...life moved forward.

Marcie remained suspended, feeling hollow inside.

She learned to wake before Rafael did, not because she wanted to, but because it was safer. If she was already moving, already useful and present, then perhaps he wouldn’t look at her with that sharp suspicion, that restless hunger for control.

She became careful with everything.

The way she poured coffee.

The way she folded laundry.

The way she spoke.

Or didn’t speak.

Silence became her armor, even though it never truly protected her.

Marcie became numb to the hurt.

The bruises faded and returned in different places, blooming like cruel flowers beneath her skin. Her body carried silent evidence of a life she could not name out loud. Her reflection became something she avoided, because mirrors told the truth too plainly.

But it wasn’t only her body that suffered.

It was her mind.

Her spirit.

The woman she used to be.

But other than that, Rafael grew worse.

His fear that she might run only sharpened him, made him colder and relentless. He watched her constantly, as though her very existence was a threat. His affection became suffocating, his sweetness a mask that could slip at any second.

He would touch her shoulder in passing, almost gently, and then ask, casually...

'Where were you?'

His eyes would narrow.

'What were you thinking about?'

As if thoughts alone were betrayal.

Every small mistake became dangerous, like a plate set down too loudly.

A shirt ironed with the slightest crease.

A pause before answering him.

A glance that lingered too long toward the front door.

And then his voice would change.

His patience would vanish.

His face would darken as though she had committed some unforgivable crime.

'You’re doing it again,' he would snap. 'You’re always doing it.'

Marcie would blink, confused, with a pounding heart.

'Doing what? Existing? Breathing wrong? Wanting to leave?'

He twisted everything until she was the one apologizing.

Until she was the one at fault.

Until she was the one trembling, whispering sorry for things she hadn’t even understood.

He manipulated her with terrifying ease, rewriting reality until she doubted her own memory.

'That never happened.'

'You’re exaggerating.'

'You’re too emotional.'

'I’m only like this because you push me.'

He said it so calmly, so convincingly, that sometimes Marcie caught herself wondering if she really was the problem.

Maybe she was ungrateful.

Maybe she was dramatic.

Maybe she deserved it.

And that thought...that sick, planted thought was the worst injury of all.

Because it meant he was inside her head.

And now, Marcie stopped calling anyone.

She stopped reaching out.

She stopped imagining help.

She didn’t even know what she would say if she tried.

She could already hear the questions.

Why didn’t you leave sooner?

Why did you stay?

And she had no answer that didn’t sound like shame.

Rafael made sure of that.

He made sure she felt small.

He made sure she felt dependent.

He made sure she remembered, every day, that she had nothing outside of him.

And slowly, Marceline began to disappear.

The woman who once laughed in the kitchen, who once hummed while preparing his suits, who once believed in a future...

She was gone.

And Rafael called their relationship devotion.

Rafael called it marriage.

Rafael called it love.

But Marcie knew, deep down beneath the numbness, beneath the exhaustion, beneath the bruises that faded...

This was not love.

This was captivity.

And the longer she stayed, the more he seemed determined to make sure she never remembered what freedom felt like again.

“Ah… we’re going to need groceries,” Marcie murmured out of nowhere, staring into the half-empty refrigerator. Her voice was barely above a whisper. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. The words had slipped out before she could stop them.

The air immediately shifted behind her as Rafael stiffened.

The sound of the fridge door closing felt unnaturally loud. Slowly, he turned to look at her, his chair scraping faintly against the floor. The silence stretched oppressively, until it pressed against her chest.

“Are you planning to escape?” he casually asked.

Marcie’s stomach dropped.

She turned to face him stiffly, her hands curling instinctively into fists at her sides. She shook her head immediately, afraid that hesitation might be mistaken for intent.

“Where would I go if I did?” she answered softly. Her eyes lowered, not in submission, but in survival. “You’re right… I am nothing without you.”

The words burned as they left her mouth, but she didn’t let it show. She had learned that truth or what he called truth, was safest when spoken before he could force it out of her.

For a moment, Rafael only stared.

Then his expression changed.

The tension drained from his shoulders. His eyes softened, warmth returning as though a switch had been flipped. He stood and walked toward her with unhurried and confident steps. The transformation was so sudden it made her dizzy...this ability of his to move seamlessly from suspicion to affection, from threat to tenderness.

He raised a hand, letting his fingers hover near her cheek making Marcie flinch.

It was instinctive. Her body reacted before her mind could intervene, shrinking back as her breath caught painfully in her throat. Her heart began to race, pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

Rafael noticed.

But instead of anger, a fond smile curved his lips. As if her fear was something endearing to him.

“It’s alright,” he said gently, soothing her. “You’re safe.”

The lie settled between them.

He withdrew his hand and tilted his head slightly, studying her for a moment.

“Alright then, sweetheart,” he continued pleasantly. “You can go and buy groceries.”

Relief fluttered weakly in her chest.

Then he added, casually, “But you’re not taking the car. Who knows where you’d go?”

The relief she felt a few seconds ago immediately vanished.

“Yes,” she said.

Rafael smiled wider, satisfied, and leaned in to press a brief kiss against her temple. To anyone else, it might have looked tender, intimate, and loving.

But to her, it felt like a brand.

As he turned away, already distracted, already unconcerned, she stood frozen in the kitchen for a moment longer, somehow relieved.