Watching Over You

The moon hung low in the October sky, casting a silvery glow through the half-drawn curtains of Emily’s bedroom window. It was just past midnight, and the small suburban house on Elm Street was shrouded in silence. Mark had parked his car two blocks away, careful not to draw attention. He clutched the copied key in his palm—a secret he’d made months ago, during one of their happier times when trust flowed freely between them. She’d never known about it. Why would she? Back then, he was her protector, her rock. Now, he was something else entirely.

The front door clicked open with a soft, practised twist. Mark slipped inside, his sneakers silent on the hardwood floor. He’d been here so many times before, but tonight felt different—charged with a purpose that twisted his gut. The living room was unchanged: the same cozy couch where they’d binge-watched movies, the coffee table cluttered with her books and a half-empty mug of herbal tea. He paused, inhaling the faint scent  from her diffuser. It had changed, no longer was it the scent of bergamot that he enjoyed, but it had been replaced by something heavier, muskier, dare he think it – more masculine.

He headed for the stairs and swiftly ascended them. It had been some time since he had last been here but it remained all so familiar.

He moved like a shadow down the hallway, avoiding the creaky floorboard near the bathroom door. Her bedroom was at the end, the door slightly ajar as always. She hated feeling confined. He immediately recalled when she had told him that, causing him to shrink back as if stung, fearful that he had pushed too far. Pushing the door open just enough, he stepped inside. The room was dim, illuminated only by the moonlight spilling across the bed. Emily lay there, curled on her side beneath a thin blanket, her chestnut hair fanned out on the pillow. She wore a simple tank top and shorts, her chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of deep sleep. The moonlight traced the curve of her cheek, the soft line of her lips, making her look ethereal, almost unreal. Her beauty had not been diminished by their time apart, although to Mark it had been an unfortunate and temporary separation. It was all a misunderstanding and one she had resisted addressing so far, but that was because she was clearly being led astray by unhealthy influences. Oh, he knew who was trying to keep her away from him, them. Yes, them, the group that felt there was something wrong with him when he was the one that had only ever looked out for her. They did not understand her like the way he did.

Mark stood at the foot of the bed, his breath shallow as he drank in the sleeping Emily. So peaceful and so perfect. He didn’t dare move closer yet. From here, he could watch her without risk. She was beautiful—always had been. Those green eyes, now hidden behind closed lids, had once looked at him with adoration. Her skin, pale and smooth under the lunar light, bore no scars from their shared past. He admired the peace on her face, the way her lips parted slightly as if whispering secrets to the night. How could someone so serene have caused him so much pain?

As he watched, memories flooded in unbidden, pulling him into a vortex of what once was. It started innocently enough. They’d met at a coffee shop two years ago—she, a budding graphic designer spilling her latte; he, a software engineer catching it just in time. “My hero,” she’d laughed, and that was the spark. He helped her from the beginning. When her freelance gigs dried up, he covered her rent without a second thought. “We’re in this together,” he’d said, transferring her money without hesitation. She smiled, kissed him deeply, and promised forever. He kept his promises and he was going to ensure that she kept hers. She said forever. That meant forever.

He edged closer now, standing over her like a sentinel. His eyes traced the outline of her body, the way the blanket hugged her hips. She shifted slightly in her sleep, murmuring something incoherent, and he froze. But she settled again, unaware. The betrayal gnawed at him. How could she end it? After everything?

Flashbacks came in waves. He remembered the night her car broke down on the highway during a storm. It was pouring rain, thunder cracking like gunfire. She called him sobbing, stranded miles from home. He drove through the deluge, fixed the flat tyre with numb fingers, and held her as she shivered in the passenger seat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, her head on his shoulder. That night, they made love in the warmth of her apartment, bodies entwined as if nothing could pull them apart. Nothing would truly pull them part, even though sinister forces had sought to do so, he was here to reunite them permanently.

But things changed. She grew distant, citing work stress, needing space. He tried harder—surprise dinners, flowers delivered to her office, even helping her redesign her portfolio late into the nights. “You’re suffocating me,” she snapped one evening over pasta he’d cooked from scratch. Suffocating? After he’d dropped everything for her? The arguments escalated. She accused him of being too possessive, too intense. He saw it as love—pure, unwavering love.

Standing there in the moonlight, Mark’s fists clenched at his sides. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. He recalled the day she ended it. They were in the park, cherry blossoms falling like confetti. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, her voice steady but eyes averted. “You’ve been amazing, but I need to find myself.” Amazing? If he was so amazing, why leave? He begged, pleaded, but she walked away, leaving him on the bench, shattered.

The sense of betrayal deepened as he watched her sleep. How peaceful she looked, unburdened by the wreckage she’d left behind. He’d lost sleep for weeks, replaying every moment. Friends told him to move on, but how? She was his everything. He helped her through her anxiety attacks, holding her hand during therapy sessions he drove her to. He loved her flaws—the way she bit her nails when nervous, her laugh that was too loud in quiet restaurants. And in return? Nothing but pain.

Pain. All he had ever sought to do was alleviate her pain and what had she done in return? Torn his life apart.

He stood as a torrent of memories cascaded through his mind and with it a surging sense of injustice. How dare she? How dare she treat him like the way she had? He was a good man and she knew that, so why had she thrown him to one side so callously? He had always been faithful to her, he had planned a future with her, since she was all that he had ever wanted and yet once it was over she had treated him like she never even knew him. She blocked his number. He sent letters and they were returned to sender, emails pinged back, but he knew that if he could just see her one last time and explain, she would understand. He knew it wasn´t truly her that had decided to erase him from her life, she had been influenced by those envious of their union. They had taken against him because he knew her best, because they wanted her for themselves and they could not stand to see the two of them happy and they had been happy. Her family and friends, twisted and traitorous, it was they who had conspired to pollute her mind with untruths, insults and assaults. It was they that had poisoned their perfect love and he knew, he absolutely knew that unaffected by their toxic influences she would remember him and return to him. It was clear that would happen and that was why he had come to her house, in the dark, unbidden, so she could listen without their screeching lies filling her ears and blocking her from understanding him.

She looked so peaceful and so innocent, she did not deserve what they had done and he felt an ache in his chest for her which was joined by a surging sense of anger at the injustice of it all. The feelings threatened to overwhelm him as tears welled in his eyes now, hot and unbidden. He hadn’t planned this intrusion for revenge, not exactly. He just needed to see her one more time, to understand why. But the memories twisted like knives. The weekend getaway to the cabin, where he carried her over the threshold like newlyweds, whispering promises of a future. The time her family disapproved of him—”too clingy,” her mother said—and he won them over with homemade meals and thoughtful gifts. He was her knight, her savior. And she discarded him like yesterday’s news but only because of them.

A sob caught in his throat, silent but wrenching. The first tear escaped, tracing down his cheek. He leaned in slightly, his shadow falling across her face. Another tear followed, and then more, as the dam broke. Why did it have to end? What did he do wrong? The betrayal burned—visions of her laughing with friends, moving on, even dating again, yes he had seen that with stinging anger, while he withered.

One tear, fat and salty, fell from his chin. It landed softly on her cheek, a tiny splash in the quiet night.

Emily’s eyes fluttered open. Confusion clouded her gaze at first, the haze of sleep lifting slowly. She blinked, wiping at her face, feeling the wetness. Then her eyes focused on the figure looming above her.

Recognition dawned.

The day did not.