Chapter 3

Donald was a freak, but he had his own code.

He wanted to control me, but he was always so good to me.

When he noticed my hair was getting too long, he'd carefully trim it for me.

When he realized I had a sweet tooth, he went out of his way to learn how to bake all sorts of desserts for me.

He even installed an air purifier system for the whole house, insisting the air outside was dirty and he wouldn't let me open the windows.

Every day, I'd wake up whenever I wanted.

Then I'd eat the meal Donald made for me. After that, I'd read or play games in the study.

Donald would always be right there, watching me.

His gaze felt so tangible, like a physical chain binding me.

But I didn't mind at all. Actually, it made me feel safe.

For someone with social anxiety like me, having someone always pay attention to me and care about me was the ultimate luxury.

That was until the day Mark Miles came to visit me.

Mark was my ex, a typical, mediocre man who thought he was all that.

We broke up because he thought I was too much of a homebody and that I'd make him look bad if he took me out.

He was yelling outside the door, "Iyla, I know you're in there. Open up. I heard you're being a kept woman of some shady guy. Seriously, don't you have any dignity left?"

I frowned inside.

The social pressure instantly maxed out.

I hated getting dragged into drama like this.

Donald was peeling an apple for me, but the moment he heard Mark's voice, his expression shifted instantly.

That gentle, boyish vibe was gone without a trace. Instead, there was a cold, menacing energy that sent chills down my spine.

He set the apple down and picked up the fruit knife from the coffee table.

"I'll take care of him." His voice was icy cold.

I quickly grabbed his sleeve.

Donald shot me a cold smirk. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you are still in love with him."

I shook my head. "No, I want to say, don't do it at the door. Blood is a nightmare to get out of the carpet. Take him to the stairwell, no cameras there."

Donald stiffened for a moment.

A flicker of emotion broke through the darkness in his eyes.

He stared at me for three seconds, and then suddenly smiled.

His smile was a little unhinged, but also like he was feeling relieved. "Iyla, you're really something else."

Donald walked out the door.

I was chilling on the couch, enjoying the apple he'd peeled for me.

Mark's screams rang out in the hallway.

They lasted for about five minutes, and then it all went dead silent.

When Donald came back, there was a faint scent of antiseptic lingering on him.

His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing a few scratch marks on his arms.

He walked over to me, looking like a puppy who'd done something bad and was hoping for praise. "Iyla, he won't be showing up again."

I took his hand and carefully examined the scratches. "Does it hurt?"

Donald's eyes lit up, and he instantly looked all pitiful. "It hurts."

I got up to grab the first aid kit.

While I was treating his wounds, Donald never took his eyes off me.

His breathing was a bit ragged as he said, "Iyla, don't you want to know what I did to him?"

As I slapped a Band-Aid on him, I said, "It's not important. As long as he stays out of my way, that's all I care about. Donald, next time you handle someone, wear gloves. Fingerprints are hell to clean up."

Suddenly, Donald wrapped his arms around me.

He held me so tight, like he wanted to fuse me into his very bones. "Iyla, why are you so calm? Do you love me, or am I someone you use?"

I was stunned for a moment.

Love?

For someone like me with social anxiety, the word "love" felt way too heavy.

But I knew that without Donald, my whole life would fall apart.

I'd have to face the loud, messy world out there and deal with all those two-faced people.

I reached out and hugged him back. "Donald, if you weren't here, I'd have to go out and buy food myself and face all those people who don't have good intentions. To me, you're my whole world. Isn't that love?"

Donald trembled a little.

He pressed his face against my neck, his voice muffled. "Yeah, this is love at its most extreme."