The Line He Shouldn't Have Crossed
Marcus crossed the line silently .
lte didn't happen with shouting or anger. It happened with calm certainty, the kind that left no room to argue.
Rosalyn was getting ready for work when he spoke from the doorway. "I think you should stop working at the café."
She froze for a moment. "Why?"
He walked in slowly. "Too many people look at you there. Too many men think they have a chance."
"It's my job," she said.
"I can take care of you," Marcus replied. "You don't need it anymore."
Rosalyn turned to face him. "That's not your decision."
His expression tightened. "Everything I do is for us."
"For you," she corrected softly.
The room felt smaller after that.
Later that day, Marcus showe up at the café again. Not as a boyfriend. As a presence. He stood near the counter, watching her, answering her manager's questions before she could.
"I'm just being supportive," he said with a smile.
Rosalyn felt heat rise in her chest—not fear, but anger. This was not concern. This was control wearing a kind face.
That evening, when she tried to leave his house to go home, Marcus stopped her at the door.
"Stay," he said
"I want my own space tonight."
He blocked the doorway without touching her. "You're safer here."
The word safer made her stomach turn.
"I didn't ask to be protected," she said.
Marcus's voice dropped. "I don't trust the world with you."
For the first time, Rosalyn felt it clearly—the cage forming around her. Not locked yet, but close.
She stepped back, meeting his eyes. "You don't own me."
Something dark flickered across his face. Then it was gone.
"I love you," he said.
The word felt wrong in the air.
That night, Rosalyn packed a small bag while Marcus slept. She didn't leave. Not yet. She sat on the edge of the bed, listening to his breathing, knowing something had changed.
This was no longer a game.
This was no longer control.
This was danger.
And now she had to decide whether to finish what she started—or get out before the door closed completely.