Wasn’t Ready for a Cage

Rain Chen's Point of View (Flashback — 18 Years Ago)

New York, late evening, Sky's small apartment

She stood in front of me.

Trembling.

Hands shaking with a piece of paper clenched between her fingers like it was her last breath.

Pregnant.

The word echoed in my head like a bomb.

I laughed at first.

Thought it was a joke. Thought maybe she'd cry, say she was late, say it was just a scare.

But she didn't.

She smiled—smiled, like this was good news—and whispered, "Rain… we're going to have a baby."

That's when something in me snapped.

A baby.

A baby.

I looked at her—sixteen and still stupid enough to think that love would fix things—and all I saw was a lock snapping shut around my throat.

"You're kidding, right?" I muttered.

She flinched. "No… no, I—I took the test twice. I even went to the clinic and—"

"No," I cut her off. "Sky, what the hell are you talking about?"

Her voice cracked. "Rain… please, I know this is scary, but we can figure it out. I'll take care of things, I'll keep studying, I won't let this ruin our future—"

"Our future?" I scoffed. "Sky, you're sixteen. You don't even know what the hell you're doing tomorrow."

Her eyes watered instantly. God, she was always so soft. So emotional.

She reached for my hand like that would anchor me to this mess. "Please don't leave. Please—Rain, I'm scared too, I just—I need you."

I pulled back.

Fast. Cold.

"You need me?" I repeated. "No, you need to wake the fuck up. I'm not about to throw my life away because you made a mistake."

She gasped. Like I'd slapped her.

Maybe I should've. Would've been cleaner than this.

"It's not a mistake," she whispered. "It's our child—"

"I didn't sign up to be a father," I snapped. "And I sure as hell didn't sign up to be trapped."

That's what it felt like. A trap.

Like chains wrapped around my throat, dragging me down into some picture-perfect hell of diapers and cheap apartments and late nights crying over bills.

I was barely surviving myself.

And her? She still believed in happily ever afters.

She was crying now. Shoulders shaking. Her hands clutched the paper like it could keep her grounded. Like it could make me stay.

"Rain, please," she sobbed. "I love you. Please don't do this. Don't leave me. I'm begging you."

I stared at her for one long second.

That face.

Those eyes.

That soft, stupid heart.

I knew in that moment—if I stayed, she'd never let me go.

She'd chain me to her goodness. Her gentleness. Her dreams.

She'd love me no matter how much I crushed her.

And I didn't want love like that.

I wanted freedom. I wanted me.

So I turned.

And I left.

Didn't look back. Didn't text. Didn't check.

Let her figure it out alone.

And she did.

She raised the kid. Got rich. Got powerful. Got loved.

But every time I close my eyes…

I still see that sixteen-year-old girl on her knees, crying for me not to go.

And it still turns me on in the worst way.

Because now that she's stronger, untouchable, and glowing?

I want to break her all over again.