Becca could hardly believe where she found herself—on her knees, following Xavier's quiet instructions with trembling hands. Every motion was unfamiliar, awkward even, but she obeyed, trying to keep up with his guidance. Xavier leaned back with a low groan of pleasure, his voice thick with desire.
"Faster, baby… just like that," he encouraged breathlessly. "Yeah, that's it."
She swallowed hard, focusing on his words, her movements gaining a rhythm as she tried not to think too much. Her hands moved up and down, uncertain yet determined, and Xavier's quiet gasps were the only sound in the room.
Then he said it. "Use your mouth."
Her eyes widened, and her lips twitched in hesitation. She froze for a moment, unsure of how to respond.
But Xavier, to her surprise, didn't force it. Instead, he gently guided her hand again, noticing how fatigued she looked. His breathing grew ragged until, finally, he exhaled sharply, his body tensing as he spilled over her hands.
He leaned back against the couch, chest heaving. "You did well," he murmured, clearly satisfied.
Becca quickly got up, turning away, feeling a strange mix of discomfort and confusion stir within her.
---
Later that evening...
The house was unusually quiet. Xavier had gone off to work after what he jokingly called their training session, leaving Becca alone with her thoughts. She wandered through the vast rooms, taking a quiet inventory of everything, trying to distract herself from the weight of her emotions.
She was curled up on a velvet armchair in the library, flipping through the pages of a novel she wasn't really reading, when her phone buzzed. A WhatsApp video call lit up the screen—her mother.
She answered quickly. "Hello?"
Her heart instantly warmed at the sight. Her entire family was gathered—her mum, her younger siblings, and even her dad, who was sitting up in bed with a weak but genuine smile.
"Papa! You're awake!" she gasped, tears springing to her eyes.
"Yes, sweetheart. The surgery went well," her mother beamed.
"I woke up earlier than they expected," her father added with a soft chuckle, his voice hoarse but light.
"And now we can finally share the good news!" her sister Azula announced, standing proudly between the twins.
"Okay, so what's the big news?" Becca asked, a smile tugging at her lips.
"We made it!" the twins shouted in unison, holding up acceptance letters on the screen.
Becca's breath caught. "Oh my God… You did it! That's amazing!"
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She was so proud—so relieved. At least now, they could move forward. Her sacrifices were bearing fruit.
"I wish I could be there to celebrate," she said with a forced laugh, brushing away a tear. "But work's got me on a tight schedule lately."
Her mum gave her a knowing look but didn't push further. "That's okay, dear. You'll come home when you can. What matters is that you're okay."
After some more light chatting, Becca ended the call and sat in silence for a while, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. She should be happy… and she was. But behind her proud smile was a deep ache she couldn't share with anyone. No one could know what she was enduring. Especially not her mother.
---
In the days that followed…
Life with Xavier took on a rhythm, though not one she ever imagined for herself.
He treated her body like his personal playground—whenever, wherever, however he pleased. There were moments when he was rough, unrelenting, his words sharp and degrading, leaving her broken and gasping for air. Sometimes, she cried until there were no tears left to fall, and even then, he wouldn't stop.
And yet… when the storm passed, he would return as though nothing had happened. Sweet. Gentle. Giving.
He'd hold her hand like they were lovers, bring her gifts, ask what she wanted for dinner. He'd watch her with a softness in his eyes that made her question if she'd imagined the cruelty from the night before.
It was disorienting.
Is this what people call madness? she wondered.
Because sometimes… she missed him when he was gone.
Not the monster behind closed doors—but the man who smirked at her across the breakfast table, who tucked her hair behind her ear with a tender look, who whispered her name like it mattered.
She hated that part of herself—the part that longed for kindness, even from him.
No. This wasn't love. It wasn't even affection. It was survival dressed in delusion. And yet…
He had become her reality.
To the world, he looked like a doting boyfriend—charming, protective, attentive.
But behind closed doors, in that dark room he called the playroom, he became someone else entirely.
Someone she wasn't sure she could ever understand.