She entered my room looking frustrated, her brows furrowed and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Before I could even ask what was wrong, she blurted out, “Ugh, I can’t believe him! He forced me to live by his rules without even thinking about how it would affect me. Like, seriously, who does that?”  

I could see the anger and hurt in her eyes as she paced back and forth. “At first, I thought it was cute, you know? Like, he cared so much that he wanted to protect me. But then it got worse—he started telling me what to wear, who I could talk to, even where I could go. It wasn’t protection anymore; it felt like I was his puppet or something.”  

She stopped pacing and looked at me, her voice softening. “I didn’t even realize how much of myself I was losing until one day I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the girl staring back. I was living for him, not for me. Every decision, every thought, had to go through him first. It was suffocating.”  

She sighed and sat down, her frustration giving way to sadness. “So, I ended it. We broke up. It hurt—like, a lot—but I couldn’t keep sacrificing myself just to keep him happy. I had to choose me.”  

She looked at me, her eyes searching for reassurance. “You know what the worst part is? I still care about him, but I can’t let myself go back to that. Love shouldn’t make you feel small or trapped. If it does, it’s not love—it’s control. And I deserve better than that, right?”  

I nodded, and she managed a small smile. “Thanks for listening. I just needed to get that off my chest.”