CHAPTER TWO:CHAINED IN LOVE AND PAIN.

Days passed, and my conversations with Leon became more frequent. He was kind, funny, and he listened—something Chris never did.

Each time my phone buzzed, my heart raced, not with fear, but with excitement. I knew I was playing a dangerous game. If Chris ever found out, his rage would be uncontrollable. But I couldn't stop myself.

One evening, while Chris was away, Leon called.

"I don't want to upset you," he said, "but you deserve better. You deserve love that doesn't hurt."

Tears welled in my eyes. Deep down, I knew he was right, but admitting it meant shattering everything I had convinced myself was love.

Chris had been unusually calm lately, as if he sensed something was off. One night, as we lay in bed, he asked, "Do you love me?"

"Yes," I whispered, but even I could hear the hesitation in my voice.

His eyes darkened. "Then why do I feel like you're hiding something?"

My heart pounded. Did he know about Leon?

I shook my head. "I'm not hiding anything."

He studied me for a long moment before pulling me close. "You belong to me," he whispered against my skin, his grip tightening.

That night, I barely slept.

The next morning, as Chris left for work, Leon sent a message:

Meet me. Just for a little while.

I hesitated. If Chris found out, I didn't know what he would do. But a part of me was tired of being afraid.

I agreed.

When I met Leon at a quiet café, his smile instantly put me at ease. "You look beautiful," he said.

I blushed, something I hadn't done in a long time.

We talked for hours, and for the first time in years, I felt like myself again. But just as I was about to leave, my phone rang.

Chris.

My heart stopped.

Leon saw the panic in my eyes. "Are you okay?"

I swallowed hard. "I have to go."

But deep inside, I knew—I was already too deep in this.

Would you like me to continue? I can build up the tension as the protagonist struggles with her feelings and ultimately makes a choice.

As I stepped inside the house, my heart froze.

Chris sat in the living room, gripping a leather belt tightly. His face was unreadable, but the coldness in his eyes sent shivers down my spine.

"Who is that man?" His voice was calm, too calm.

Panic surged through me, but I forced myself to stay composed. "I have no other man than you. You alone—till death do us part."

A twisted smile crept onto his lips as he stood. Before I could react, he grabbed me roughly, yanking at my clothes until I was completely exposed.

I tried to resist, but he was stronger. He chained my legs, tied my hands, and forced himself on me. The pain was unbearable, yet he didn't stop. When he was done, I thought it was over. But then, he picked up the belt.

The first strike landed across my stomach. The second, on my thighs. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, but when the belt lashed against my breasts and between my legs, I cried out.

Chris let out a low, satisfied groan—he enjoyed this.

When he was done, he unchained me, carried me to the bathroom, and bathed me like nothing had happened. He tucked me into bed, kissed my forehead, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

I stared into his eyes, my body burning with pain, and for the first time, I felt the urge to bite him, to fight back. But I swallowed my anger.

I was trapped.