History Repeats

 Lily had always been a hopeful person. When she and Jake rekindled their relationship, she believed in second chances, in love's ability to heal old wounds. Jake had promised he'd changed, and for a while, it seemed like he had. The man who once controlled every aspect of her life had softened, his sharp edges smoothed over by therapy and time. 

In the beginning, things were perfect. Jake was attentive and charming, going out of his way to prove he could be the partner Lily deserved. He encouraged her career as a artist, telling her how proud he was of her talent. He listened, laughed at her jokes, and treated her friends with respect. Lily dared to believe that the Jake from the past—the one who monitored her every move and made her feel small—was gone for good. 

But control, she would later realize, is a subtle thing. 

It started with small requests. 

 "Don't you think we should spend more weekends together, just the two of us?" he'd ask, his tone so loving she couldn't find it in herself to argue. Sure, she missed her Saturday brunches with her best friend, Claire, but Jake made her feel wanted. 

Next came comments about her outfits. 

 "You're beautiful in anything, but that dress is a bit… much, don't you think? You don't need to show off for anyone but me." 

Lily laughed it off at first, chalking it up to harmless jealousy. She swapped the dress for something less daring, dismissing the pang of unease that settled in her chest. 

Over time, Jake's comments grew sharper, his tone more insistent. 

 "Do you have to spend so much time on your work? You're always glued to your laptop." 

Lily tried to explain that her freelance projects were important, not just financially but creatively. Jake nodded, seeming to understand, but the guilt lingered. The next time a client asked for a rush job, she hesitated before accepting, fearing how Jake might react. 

Lily had always been close to her family and friends. They were her lifeline, her safety net, especially during the years when Jake's controlling nature had made her feel small and alone. After their initial breakup, it was Claire who pulled her back into the world, coaxing her out for brunches and wine nights, reminding her of the life she had put on hold. Her parents, though cautious, had welcomed her back into their arms, never once saying,

 "We told you so," even though they'd warned her about Jake early on. 

When Jake came back into her life, it had taken months for her to admit it to anyone. She knew how they'd react—Claire's sharp disapproval, her mother's worried eyes, her father's quiet anger. But Jake had seemed so different this time. He'd gone to therapy, he'd apologized for the ways he'd hurt her, and he'd promised he would never isolate her again. And Lily, ever hopeful, believed him.

At first, it was easy to reassure everyone. Jake had been on his best behavior, joining her for family dinners and laughing at Claire's sarcastic jokes. He didn't flinch when her sister grilled him about his intentions. For the first time, Lily felt like the people she loved could coexist with the man she loved. 

But slowly, subtly, Jake began to wedge himself between her and everyone else. 

It started with her phone. 

 "Why does Claire text you so much?" he asked one night as they sat on the couch. 

 "She's my best friend," Lily replied, smiling.

 "We talk about everything." 

Jake didn't smile back.

 "Doesn't it bother you that she's always in our business? It's like she doesn't respect our relationship." 

The comment made Lily pause. She didn't want to upset Jake, and she certainly didn't want to seem disloyal. So the next time Claire texted, Lily hesitated before replying. When Jake saw her hesitation, he looked satisfied. 

Then came the family gatherings. 

 "Your mom doesn't like me," Jake said after dinner at her parents' house. 

 "She's just protective," Lily assured him.

 "She'll come around." 

 "I don't think she will," he said darkly.

 "It's exhausting, going there and feeling judged all the time. Can we skip next Sunday? I just want one weekend with you, without all the negativity." 

One skipped dinner turned into two, then three. Soon, Lily stopped suggesting visits altogether. Her parents called less often, their disappointment evident in their voices. 

By the time Christmas rolled around, Jake had convinced her to spend it alone with him, in their tiny apartment.

 "We'll start our own traditions," he said, wrapping his arms around her. It sounded romantic at the time, but as the night stretched on in silence, Lily found herself missing the warmth and chaos of her family's holiday celebrations. 

Claire had been harder to shake. She called and texted relentlessly, refusing to let Lily disappear. But Jake found ways to undermine their friendship. 

 "Clara doesn't understand us," he'd say.

 "She's jealous because she's single. She's trying to come between us." 

Lily hated the idea of losing her best friend, but Jake's words gnawed at her. Slowly, she started pulling back—canceling plans, taking longer to reply to messages. One day, Claire stopped calling altogether. 

The eggshells under Lily's feet multiplied so gradually she didn't notice at first. But then, there was the incident at the coffee shop. 

They had gone there for an afternoon treat, and Jake had excused himself to use the restroom. While he was gone, the barista, a friendly young man, struck up a conversation with Lily about her sketchbook. Jake returned just in time to hear the barista compliment her work. 

The tension was immediate. Jake's smile was tight, his eyes cold as he sat down. Later, in the car, he exploded.

 "Do you enjoy flirting with random guys in front of me?" he demanded. 

 "Flirting? Jake, he was just being nice—" 

 "Don't lie to me, Lily. I saw the way you smiled at him." 

Lily sat in stunned silence, her heart pounding. She had seen this version of Jake before—the one who twisted kindness into betrayal, who made her doubt her intentions and actions. 

 "I'm sorry," she whispered, even though she hadn't done anything wrong. 

That night, she lay awake, replaying the argument in her mind. She tried to convince herself it was an isolated incident, a moment of insecurity that didn't define who Jake had become. But deep down, she knew. 

The old Jake was back. 

From then on, her life became a balancing act. She started censoring herself, second-guessing every word and action. When Claire invited her out for drinks, Lily lied and said she was busy, knowing Jake wouldn't approve. She stopped wearing makeup on days she worked from the café, afraid he'd accuse her of seeking attention. 

One evening, while Lily was preparing dinner, Jake came into the kitchen and glanced at her phone on the counter. A message from a male colleague flashed on the screen. 

 "Who's that?" Jake asked, his voice deceptively calm. 

Lily's stomach dropped.

 "Just someone from work. He's asking about the project deadline." 

Jake picked up her phone, scrolling through the message. His jaw tightened, and he placed it back on the counter with deliberate care. 

 "Why does he need to text you after hours?" 

 "It's nothing, Jake. Really." 

His silence was heavy, his disapproval palpable. Lily busied herself with chopping vegetables, her hands trembling. 

That night, she cried in the shower, the water masking her tears. She felt trapped, suffocated by a love that had turned into a prison. 

Weeks passed. Lily threw herself into her work, trying to ignore the growing emptiness in her life. She told herself it was normal for relationships to change over time, that Jake was her partner now, her priority. But the loneliness lingered, an unwelcome guest she couldn't quite evict. 

The realization hit her one evening as she scrolled through her phone. She'd posted a photo earlier that day—a picture of the sunset from their balcony—and noticed Claire had liked it. Her heart twisted. 

Before Jake, Claire would've commented something funny or sarcastic, sparking a playful back-and-forth. Now, the like felt distant, perfunctory. Lily scrolled through her messages, noticing how one-sided her conversations had become. Her parents' last text was weeks old:

 *We miss you, sweetheart. Hope you're okay.* 

Tears pricked at her eyes as she realized how far she'd drifted from the people who loved her. She thought about the version of herself who had once called Claire at midnight just to vent, who had laughed over board games with her family, who had felt surrounded by love. That version of herself felt like a stranger now. 

Jake came home while Lily was still staring at her phone. He kissed her cheek and dropped his bag by the door. "What's for dinner?" he asked, not noticing her red-rimmed eyes. 

 "Jake," she said softly, her voice trembling. 

He turned, frowning.

 "What's wrong?"

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat.

 "Do you ever think about how much I've given up for us?" 

His frown deepened.

 "What are you talking about?" 

 "My friends, my family… I barely see them anymore. I barely talk to them." 

Jake sighed, exasperated.

 "Lily, we've talked about this. Your family never supported us. Claire never liked me. Why would you want to keep people like that in your life?" 

 "Because they're my family. They're my friends," she said, her voice rising.

 "And I miss them, Jake. I miss who I was before—" 

 "Before what?" he snapped. "Before me?" 

Lily flinched. For a moment, she saw the anger in his eyes, the same anger that had pushed her away years ago. She realized then that nothing had really changed. Jake hadn't changed. 

And maybe she hadn't either. She was still the girl who believed she could fix him, who thought love was enough to overcome control. But now, sitting in the suffocating silence of their apartment, she knew she couldn't live like this anymore. 

The final straw came on a rainy Tuesday. Lily had left her phone on the kitchen table while she took a work call in the other room. When she returned, Jake was holding it, his face stormy. 

 "Why do you have a password on your phone?" he demanded. 

 "It's for work security," Lily explained, her voice trembling.

 "You know that." 

 "Work security? Or are you hiding something from me?" 

 "Jake, please. You're overreacting." 

His eyes narrowed.

 "I have a right to know what's going on in your life, Lily. Or don't you trust me?" 

It was the way he twisted her own words, the way he made her feel guilty for wanting privacy, that broke her resolve.

 For days, she had told herself she could fix things, that Jake's love was worth the sacrifices she was making. But standing there, staring at the man who had once promised her the world, she realized she had lost herself in the process.