When The Past Speaks

Louis's expression softened as he noticed the change in my demeanor, the way my gaze dropped to the floor, hiding the tears that threatened to spill. My voice wavered, betraying the vulnerability I desperately tried to conceal. "Sir... I don't think my personal life was ever meant to be part of this deal."

Louis paused, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in my trembling words. A hint of guilt flickered across his eyes, softening his features. "You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep," he said, his voice laced with regret. He shifted back to his meal, his movements slower, as if trying to find refuge in the mundane.

I gathered my courage, inhaling deeply as I prepared to address the unspoken tension between us. "I... I have a boyfriend, sir," I confessed, my tone gentle but firm, hoping to draw a line without creating more awkwardness.

His reaction was immediate—his eyes widened, a mix of shock and regret flashing across his face. "You—what? You have a boyfriend?" he blurted out, running a hand through his hair in clear agitation. "Damn it, I didn't know. I'm sorry. This was never—God, this was never supposed to happen."

He began pacing, he scratched his head as his usual composed demeanor unraveling with every step. "Shit, I can't believe I put you in this position. I thought—Christ, I'm such an idiot." He stopped, staring at the floor as if searching for answers. "I wasn't thinking. I got caught up in the moment, and now... shit, I messed up."

The room felt heavy with his remorse, each of his frantic apologies like an attempt to claw back to some semblance of control. "I didn't mean to cross any boundaries. This isn't me, Claire. Fuck, I'm sorry," he said, his voice raw with frustration and regret. "I should've known better." 

"Calm down, sir. You haven't let me finish," I said, trying to soothe the storm of emotions brewing within him. My voice was firmer now, cutting through his frantic apologies. "I'm not done yet, sir. Sit down and listen to me."

Louis paused, his eyes searching mine for some kind of reassurance. Slowly, he sank into his chair, his restless movements finally stilled as he leaned forward, giving me his full attention.

I took a shaky breath, feeling the sting of old wounds as I looked down at my trembling hands. "His name was Mark," I began, my voice heavy with the weight of everything he had put me through.

"We met when we were just kids, and at first, he was everything I thought I wanted. Charming, funny, always making me feel like I was the center of his world. But beneath all that charm, there was something darker."

Louis leaned in closer, his intense gaze fixed on me, absorbing every word as if each one was a punch to his own gut.

"At first, the changes were subtle," I continued, my voice cracking with the effort to keep my emotions in check. "He'd get jealous if I talked to other guys, even if it was just a harmless conversation. He started accusing me of things—flirting, cheating, lying. 

I laughed it off at first, thinking he was just being protective. But soon, his jealousy turned into something else entirely. He'd show up at my house unannounced, checking my phone, demanding to know where I was and who I was with."

I could feel my heart racing as I relived those suffocating moments, the walls closing in around me, trapping me in a relationship that felt more like a prison.

"The first time he hit me, it was because I didn't answer his call quickly enough," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "He slapped me so hard I saw stars. I remember standing there, stunned, with my cheek burning and tears blurring my vision. He apologized immediately, saying he didn't mean it, that he was just stressed. And like a fool, I believed him. I believed him every single time."

I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat as the memories surged forward like a rushed wave ready to throw me off balance. "It didn't stop there. He'd push me against walls, yank my hair when he was angry, and call me names that made me feel small, worthless, like I was nothing without him. He convinced me I deserved it—that I was the one provoking him, that I was the one ruining everything."

Louis's jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists as if he could somehow go back in time and rip Mark away from me. The pity and anger in his eyes only fueled my need to keep going, to let it all out.

"I stopped going out with my friends because Mark hated them," I confessed, the words tumbling out faster now, each one coated in bitterness. "He'd say they were bad influences, that they were just trying to steal me away from him. I was isolated, trapped in a web of his manipulation, too scared to tell anyone. I lost myself in him—every decision, every thought, every single part of my life revolved around keeping him happy, keeping him from snapping."

"But one day he.." I stopped mid sentence as I tried to talk but it felt like the words got stuck in my sobs.

Louis's face paled, his eyes wide and filled with a raw, unguarded concern. He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "What did he do to you?" he asked, his tone tinged with both desperation and a kind of helpless rage. "Please, Claire. Tell me what he did."

I hesitated, the painful memories clawing at the surface, threatening to spill over. For the first time, I felt the burden of my past lightening, even if just a little, under the weight of Louis's unwavering gaze.

The most painful memory clawed its way to the surface, the one I had buried deeper than the rest. 

"One night, he was more agitated than usual. We got into a fight about something stupid—I think it was about me talking to a guy at work. He lost control, completely. He grabbed me, threw me against the wall so hard that I hit my head. The room spun, my vision blurred, and I could barely stand. But it wasn't the physical pain that hurt the most—it was the look in his eyes. There was no love, no regret, just pure, unfiltered rage. He didn't even care that I was bleeding."

I choked back a sob, blinking away the tears that had finally escaped. "After that, I knew I couldn't stay. I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night, with nothing but the clothes on my back. I was scared, ashamed, and I had no idea what would happen next. But I knew if I stayed, he would destroy me completely."

Louis's eyes were locked on mine, a mix of fury and sorrow etched across his face. His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke, barely above a whisper. "Claire, I'm so sorry," he said, his words heavy with guilt and empathy. "No one should ever have to go through that."

"I went through hell, sir," I choked out, my voice breaking as the tears finally spilled over. I could no longer hold back the sobs that wracked my body, the weight of my past crashing down on me all at once. 

Louis was beside me in an instant, wrapping his arms around me in a protective embrace. He held me close, his hand gently stroking my hair as he whispered soft, comforting words. "It's okay, Claire. It's over now. You're safe," he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that only deepened my anguish.

I clung to him, my tears soaking through his shirt, but I didn't care. The pain was too raw, too overwhelming. "The other day, I was just scrolling through the internet, and I saw a post... Mark's post," I said, my voice quivering with a mix of anger and heartbreak. "He was smiling, standing there with this gorgeous model on his arm. I guess she's his new girlfriend." My voice wavered, my heart aching at the image that had burned itself into my mind.

I pulled back slightly, looking up at Louis with tear-filled eyes. "I don't even know why it hurt so much, sir," I confessed, my voice strained as if I were confessing a secret I had been too ashamed to admit. "I should hate him for everything he did to me, but... I loved him. I really loved him. 

My emotions erupted in a scream, raw and primal, as if letting it out would somehow purge the pain from my soul. "Ahhh!" I cried out, my voice echoing in the room as I tried to release the agony that had been buried deep inside me for so long. I wanted to scream away the nights I spent crying alone, the times I had blamed myself, the endless questions of why I wasn't enough.

Louis tightened his hold, his touch grounding me as I trembled in his arms. "It's not your fault, Claire," he whispered fiercely, his voice tinged with an anger that wasn't directed at me but at the man who had caused me so much suffering. "He didn't deserve you, not then, not now. And you don't owe him any of your pain."

I buried my face in his chest, letting the sobs take over, feeling the warmth of his embrace and chest as a small comfort against the pain I was feeling inside me. It was the first time in a long time I had let someone see me so completely undone, and for once, I didn't feel alone in my pain.