Page 96 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
I nearly jump when he appears next to me. He gently wraps his fingers around mine, holds the flute up and tops it off. I watch him, amazed by how relaxed he looks. Instead of a three-piece suit he’s wearing a white linen shirt and khaki shorts. His hair is tousled, the lines that usually linger around his eyes smoothed out.
“Thanks.” I watch the bubbles in the glass. “That first year was good. Great, actually. Flowers almost every week, dates, movie nights. Looking back, there were signs. Exaggerating a play he made during a game. Getting this frustrated look on his face when someone contradicted him before he’d laugh it off. But I dismissed it because everything else was so good.”
He stands there with me at the railing. Waiting, ready to listen.
“It started off small at first. Asking if I could change into a different dress because he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else looking at me the way he did. He phrased it just so that I felt selfish for wanting to wear something for me. If he went too far, he’d apologize and blame practice or his professors or his coursework. And then…”
My voice trails off. Aiden lands a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I know.” Resolve hardens in my voice. “But I want to.”
I want Aiden to hear the full story from me, not some newspaper or social media post. I want him to know my side, know why I made the decisions I did.
“A week before senior year started, he asked me to drop the dance team. We’d barely seen each other the last few weeks, and he said he was worried we would lose our momentum as a couple. That this was our chance to prove our commitment before graduation.”
I can still picture him standing in our little studio apartment with puppy dog eyes as he romanticized cutting me off from one of my favorite things in life.
“I agreed. That’s when my parents started to wonder if he was really the right guy for me.” I take a sip of champagne, enjoying the fruity taste of bubbles on my tongue. Savor it for a moment before I delve into the worst years of my life. “But I wanted the dream. Marriage, kids. Those first few months had been good, so surely they were overreacting.
“It only escalated from there. We graduated and got a tiny apartment in Harlem. I got the job at the PR firm while he worked as an athletic trainer. He didn’t like that I made more money than him. He’d yank my hand when he got upset or grab my arm, but would always apologize after.”
Aiden’s hand tightens on my shoulder. I lay my hand over his. Foolish, yes. But I need this moment of connection, need the calmness that comes from his touch.
“It was so gradual it took me a while to realize just how bad it had gotten. If I didn’t text back quickly enough, he’d give me the cold shoulder for an entire day. He’d make remarks about friends of mine implying they weren’t good enough for me or had it out for him. I was so anxious, so unsure, I thought I was going crazy.”
My voice breaks on the last word.
“That’s what abusers do,” Aiden murmurs. “They’re masters of manipulation.”
Startled, I look up at him. “Did…do you…?”
“My father abused my mother. I remember a little.”
His voice is devoid of any noticeable emotion. But I still note his quieter tone, the tight clipping of his words. Whatever happened in his childhood home is still very painful.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” He meets my gaze. “You got away.”
I nod. “I did. The last six months were terrible. Thankfully we weren’t intimate. It was as if once he knew he had control he lost interest. I didn’t have any friends left and barely spoke to my parents. His verbal abuse escalated. He’d grab me harder, started leaving bruises. He’d apologize with flowers or gifts, tell me he loved me so much he just couldn’t help it sometimes.
“I finally accepted I needed to leave. A secretary at my firm invited me out for a drink. I texted him that I would be home late. When I came in, he was…angry.” That doesn’t even begin to describe the sheer fury vibrating through him. “He hit me. Accused me of cheating. I finally broke, told him I was done.” My voice dulls. “That’s when he pulled out the knife.”
Aiden turns me around, plucks the champagne glass from my hand and sets it down before pulling me into his arms. I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as emotions sweep through me. Fear, sadness, embarrassment, relief.
“You’re safe.”
I inhale the scent of him, smoky wood and spice and a soothing hint of sandalwood.
“I ran. I didn’t stop running until I got to Grace’s Refuge.”
His arms tighten around me. “That’s why you asked for the building.”
I nod. “They gave me a place to stay. Helped me talk to the police and sat with me while I filed for a restraining order. One of their advocates helped me find my apartment, and another introduced me to Cirque Obsidian. Jessica had taught some classes at the shelter before, and when the advocate learned how much I used to dance, she encouraged me to take it up again.”
“What about your parents? The police?”
I scrunch my eyes tight to prevent the tears from spilling out on his shirt. “I didn’t want to call my parents. I was so ashamed. Another woman at work suspected what was happening and had given me the card for the shelter. It might sound stupid, but when I ran out of the apartment, all I could think about was getting there.”
