The next morning, I served him tea.
He didn't drink it.
He just stared at the cup like it was poisoned.
Maybe it was.
Maybe it wasn't.
What mattered was that he didn't know anymore.
---
> "You've been quiet," I said sweetly.
He nodded.
> "I'm thinking."
> "About what?"
"The past?"
"The women?"
"Or the fact that I no longer flinch when you lie?"
He looked up.
Eyes hollow.
He was breaking.
---
Later, I sat in the garden.
Wearing her red dress.
Reading her journal.
The part she hid under the floorboards.
The one marked with a single word:
"Rewire."
> "They taught him to love in loops. That's why he makes us repeat. That's why we all had the same dress. The same song. The same routine. He only feels safe when he's in control of the pattern."
So I broke the pattern.
I left the music on.
But I didn't play our song.
I played one I'd never heard before.
A chaotic, crashing piece — full of keys and no melody.
He came downstairs.
> "That's not—"
> "I know," I interrupted.
"That's the point."
---
He grabbed my wrist.
For the first time in weeks.
Not lovingly. Not cruelly.
Desperately.
> "What do you want from me?"
I smiled.
> "To see if you're capable of loving someone who changes."
He froze.
> "I don't understand you anymore."
> "Good," I said. "Now we're even."
---
That night, I gave him a journal.
His journal.
The one with the first experiment's notes.
I left a message on the cover:
> "They wanted to fix you. I'm here to break you, so you finally heal."
---
When I walked away, I didn't check if he cried.
I just listened.
To the silence.
And the slow, uneven beating of the heart he used to control.
---
🩸 End of Chapter 14
The Psychological Hook:
This chapter doesn't shock — it unsettles
Makes readers realize she's using kindness as a scalpel
Flips their expectations: he's now the ghost being haunted
---
We're entering the addiction curve now, Dawid.
Readers don't know who to trust
They feel for Arianne, but they're curious about him
And they're waiting — not just for revenge, but for the collapse