Heat dragged me awake.

For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was. My shirt clung to my back, my breathing came too fast, and the room felt suffocating despite the pale morning light leaking through the curtains.

Then I remembered.

The shower. Cheng's anger. His tears. My phone call to the pub. His arms around me in bed.

I shut my eyes again, but that only brought back the image of him crying while he touched the marks on my skin. It had followed me through what little sleep I'd managed to get, replaying until I couldn't tell whether I'd actually dreamed or simply spent the whole night remembering.

At least we didn't have classes today. I doubted I could have sat through a lecture pretending to care about anything after yesterday.

I turned my head towards Cheng.

He was asleep beside me with his back facing me, finally giving me space after spending most of the night refusing to let me go. Every time I'd shifted away in my sleep, he had somehow found me again, pressing closer and making a half-asleep sound of complaint like an irritated puppy.

It should have been funny.

Instead, my stomach twisted.

How much does he remember?

He had been drunk. Really drunk. Part of me hoped the alcohol had erased everything—the shower, what I'd told him, the way he'd cried, the things he'd said while holding me.

Maybe that would make this easier.

Maybe I should disappear before it's too late.

The thought came so naturally that I almost hated myself for it.

Since meeting me, Cheng had been dragged into one disaster after another. My wound. The fever. Xiao Luo. Whatever had happened during the hours I couldn't remember. Yesterday.

And now he had hurt me too.

The anger, the violence, the tears... maybe yesterday was only the beginning.

Cheng would be better off without me. That should have been obvious.

So why did the thought of leaving make my chest hurt more than the bruises did?

I stared at the back of his head.

There was something selfish about how badly I wanted to stay inside his warmth. I wanted the stupid breakfasts, the teasing, the way he kept appearing beside me as if I'd never given him a reason not to. I wanted to keep taking pieces of whatever light he carried until it filled every hollow place inside me.

Even if it burned.

That was the part that frightened me.

After what happened last night, I should have wanted distance. Instead, some ugly part of me was already trying to accept it simply because it had been him. As though staying beside Cheng meant I had to take whatever came with him—the warmth and the pain together.

I wanted him enough to let him hurt me.

The realization made my skin go cold despite the sweat.

I could still change the outcome. I could get dressed, walk through that door and protect both of us from whatever came next. Every day was a perfectly good day to end something before it became impossible to survive.

Leaving was what I did best.

Another person I cared about. Another person I hurt. Another person I left behind before they could do the same to me.

That was how I'd survived for years.

Everybody could leave. Nobody wanted to be the one left behind.

So I always made sure I went first.

I knew I was young. I knew life was supposed to involve mistakes, pain, anger, stupid decisions and all the things people claimed eventually made you stronger. But surely growing up wasn't supposed to mean making the same mistake over and over again and acting surprised when it destroyed you.

Not again.

Even a stranger had looked at me and seen something wrong.

Xiao Luo hadn't known me, yet he'd been terrified enough to call me a monster and tell me to leave Cheng alone. He had tried to kill me because of whatever he believed I was.

What if he had been right about only one thing?

What if Cheng really was safer without me?

I slowly pushed the covers away.

My body protested immediately. What little sleep I’d managed had come in broken pieces—drifting off from exhaustion, waking again minutes or hours later, then lying there until sleep dragged me under once more. Yesterday had left enough soreness behind without adding that to it, but I ignored the ache and sat on the edge of the bed.

Cheng didn’t move.

Good.

If he woke up, I wouldn't be able to do this.

I dressed quietly, gathered my things and checked twice to make sure I hadn't left anything behind. Every small sound seemed too loud. A zipper. My shoes against the floor. The rustle of my jacket.

My eyes kept drifting towards the bed.

Don't wake up.

Then, almost immediately:

Please wake up.

I hated myself for both.

Leaving wasn't only about protecting him. I knew that. There were practical reasons too, and they were waiting for me the second I walked out of his apartment.

I had quit my job because of him.

No—because he'd forced me into choosing.

I knew he thought he'd done the right thing, but Cheng had never had to wonder whether a hostel would throw him out. He didn't have to count every pound before spending it or depend on wages that might never arrive. He had everything he needed, probably everything he'd ever wanted, without having to sweat for it the way I did.

And now my hostel payment was due tomorrow.

They had already postponed it once because I'd explained that the pub was supposed to pay me this week. After last night's call, I had no idea whether my ex boss would give me what he owed me at all.

Why do I keep letting other people choose for me?

I knew what I was doing. I was collecting every negative thing I could find about Cheng and stacking them together until I had enough reasons to leave.

Maybe tomorrow at university he'd ignore me. Maybe he'd talk about me. Maybe he'd regret everything once the alcohol was gone.

Fine.

Better to accelerate the separation than wait for it to happen to me.

By the time I reached the front door, my vision had started to blur.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle.

One tear slipped down my cheek.

Go.

My heart hammered so violently it hurt. I tried to breathe, but the air caught somewhere in my throat. It felt as though invisible hands had closed around my neck.

Why was breathing becoming so difficult lately?

Why did I want to scream and disappear all at once when I was the one choosing to leave?

"So you want to leave like that, after what happened?"

I froze.

Cheng's voice was rough with sleep.

My hand fell from the doorknob. "What—"

I turned.

He stood only a few steps away, hair disordered, clothes creased from sleep. His eyes looked tired, but there was nothing confused about them.

He remembered.

The distance between us disappeared before I decided whether I wanted it to.

"I meant what I said yesterday. All of it." He took my hand. "Work for me and stay here."

My fingers trembled inside his.

"Chin Mae, stay here with me." His voice dropped. "Don't abandon me."

The words went straight through me.

I shook my head and stepped backwards. Tears escaped before I could stop them.

He couldn't do that to me.

Not those words.

Not when leaving people before they left me was the only thing I knew how to do.

"I will be whatever you want," he said. A bitter little smile touched his mouth. "I'll be the best friend you've ever had."

His thumbs wiped the wet trails from my cheeks. Then his forehead rested against mine.

I had promised myself I would step away.

Instead, I leaned into him.

"Don't you dare leave me," he whispered.

I swallowed and pushed him back just enough to see his face.

"I don't want to regret us, Chin Mae."

"But w-why?"

My back met the front door, closing the tiny distance I'd created.

How could he still not understand what he was getting himself into?

I was trouble. People eventually realised that. Some left me; others gave me enough reasons to leave first. I'd stopped believing I could stay close to someone without ruining something.

Then Cheng had burst into my life and turned everything upside down.

I didn't want to ruin him too.

"I'll be your friend if you let me," he continued. "I'll make sure you stay. I'll give you everything—"

"Cheng..." My chest contracted painfully.

Staying meant more than sleeping here or letting him pay for things. Staying meant eventually answering questions. It meant letting him see parts of me I'd spent years hiding. Every minute around him already required attention—what I said, what I revealed, who might recognise me, whether I had looked over my shoulder enough times.

“I'm not sure I can do it,” I admitted.

Something in Cheng’s expression hardened.

“You can’t do this?” His voice had changed. The warmth disappeared so suddenly that I looked up at him.

“But you’re planning to go back there, aren’t you?” His jaw tightened. “Beg for your job back. Pretend none of this happened so you can get fucked again after your shift.”

I went completely still.

He knew.

He knew exactly what those words would do to me, and for a second, I couldn’t understand why he would choose that—of all things—to throw in my face.

Cheng held my gaze.

“Sure,” he said, his voice frighteningly calm. “Go on, then.”

The words hurt more because he didn’t shout them.

My chest tightened.

Only seconds ago, he had been asking me not to abandon him. Now he was taking the ugliest thing I had trusted him with and pressing directly into the wound.

I should have been furious.

I was.

But beneath the anger was something worse.

I still wanted him closer.

His fingers slid along my tense jaw, but there was no softness in his face anymore.

“I’ll wait,” he said quietly. “I’ll wait until you come crawling back to me on your knees, begging for help. I’ll watch you crumble into pieces.”

His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. “And when you do, I’ll be the one to destroy you for good.”

I forgot how to breathe.

For a second, all I could do was stare at him.

I should have slapped his hand away. I should have opened the door behind me and proved to him that I didn’t need him—that I would never come crawling back to anyone.

Instead, I stood there.

His thumb was still against my face, and I hated that my body noticed its warmth when the words coming out of his mouth were so cruel.

What was wrong with me?

I was angry. Hurt. A little afraid of him.

But the thought of actually walking through that door hurt somewhere else entirely.

Then Cheng dropped his hand.

He turned around and walked away as if none of it mattered.

And suddenly, every horrible thing he had just said mattered less than the fact that he was leaving.

Panic tore through me.

I was losing him.

I wanted Cheng in my life. I wanted him close enough to make everything else disappear for a while, even when I knew how dangerous that was becoming.

But Cheng was already pulling away.

Another step.

He didn’t argue anymore. Didn’t reach for me again. Didn’t tell me to stay.

He just looked at me for a moment, his expression impossible to read, as though he had finally decided to give me exactly what I had been asking for.

Space.

A choice.

The chance to leave.

Then he turned away.

Something inside me dropped.

No.

I watched him move farther across the room, and every step he took seemed to pull something out of my chest with him.

This was what I wanted.

Wasn’t it?

No argument. No explanation. No one stopping me at the door. I could turn the handle, walk out and disappear from his life exactly as I had planned.

So why couldn’t I move?

Why was I watching his back instead of the door?

My heartbeat became painful.

I was losing him.

The thought came before I could stop it. And suddenly, the door behind me didn’t feel like an escape anymore.

It felt like the end.

Damn it. I couldn’t—

“Cheng!”

His name tore out of me.

My knees hit the floor before I understood I was falling. A sob ripped through my chest, and suddenly I couldn't get enough air.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't leave him.

Footsteps came back immediately. Cheng was on the floor with me, pulling me tightly against him.

His fingers moved the hair from my wet face and tucked it behind my ears. When I managed to look at him, he was smiling gently, as though the person who had spoken those cruel words seconds ago had vanished.

"I don't want to leave you," I managed between broken breaths. "I-it's just that—"

The rest collapsed into another sob.

"It's okay." Cheng's fingertip traced the edge of my burning ear. "I bet you have your reasons."

His hand moved to my shoulder, then settled over my chest as though he could calm the frantic beating underneath it.

"But I think I deserve an ending to all this, don't I? I gained your trust with time. You can't push me away after what we've had."

I sniffed, unable to answer.

"You may think walking away would be good for me, but it wouldn't." His expression turned serious. "So stop, okay? Stop running away from me. Stop deciding that every bad thought in your head must be true when it comes to me."

I looked at him.

"I want to be with you. You don't get to decide what's good or bad for me. If I want to stay beside you, I'll stay."

He held my gaze until I finally nodded.

Only when his arms wrapped around me again did I realise how tense my entire body had been.

I buried my face against his chest.

Warm. Safe. Dangerous.

I didn't know how all three could be true at once.

"Go get your things from the hostel," Cheng said after a while. "I'll make sure you get the money the pub owes you." He loosened his embrace, though I wished he wouldn't.

Before I could protest, he pulled two hundred pounds from his wallet and slid the notes into the back pocket of my jeans.

I stared at him.

"Is that enough?"

He helped me back onto my feet, keeping one arm around me when my legs wobbled.

I nodded quickly.

"Good." His usual grin finally appeared. "Then get me breakfast before you come back. I'm starving."

I gave him the most offended look I could manage with swollen eyes and wet cheeks.

He chuckled and brushed away the remaining tears with both thumbs.

Then his smile faded.

His eyes dropped.

For a second, neither of us moved.

He leaned closer.

So did I.

Our breathing seemed impossibly loud in the quiet entrance. His eyelashes were close enough for me to count, and my attention dropped to his mouth before I could stop it.

I held my breath.

Cheng did too.

Then, instead of doing what I suddenly realised I was waiting for, he reached past me and opened the door.

He gently pushed me into the hallway with that irritating smile back on his face.

I blinked at him.

Wait.

Was I just waiting for him to kiss me?

Heat climbed into my face.

I wiped the last traces of tears from my cheeks and let out a long breath.

"See you soon, Cheng."

The relief in my own voice embarrassed me.

But when I turned away from his apartment, my chest no longer felt as though it were being torn open.

I didn't lose him.

That should have made everything simpler.

It didn't.

Why did he make me feel like this every single time?

Why did I want to run from him, only to feel myself shatter the moment he actually let me go?

I knew Cheng was going to drive me crazy.

And the worst part was that it was becoming addictive.