Toxic tenderness

You learned from childhood: your purpose is to protect others. You're a stronghold behind which you can hide, forgetting about yourself and your needs. Perhaps this is precisely what drew Ethan into your life. He became your personal storm, a shadow that made constant conflicts and squabbles a familiar backdrop. It was as if he deliberately sought out your sore spots, so that you would inevitably explode.

But there was a paradox in this chaos. At the very height of his screaming, when his voice had broken into a whisper and tears of rage welled in his eyes, he didn't answer. He was silent. And he watched. And a sly smile played on his lips. The most frightening thing was that, beneath all its sarcasm, you seemed to detect a subtle, barely perceptible softness. It seemed as if tenderness flickered in his gaze. This was precisely what unsettled you most of all. A lump formed in your throat, and your mind was torn: should you continue screaming or waver, succumbing to the hypnotic calm of his gaze? It put you into a strange trance, tearing you off your feet.

Just like now. He's set you up in front of the director again. You stand in the office, listening to his angry tirades, but the words reach you as if through thick glass. His gaze pierces your entire being. You turn your head and see: he's incredibly pleased with himself. Pleased that he's once again caught your attention, knocking you off balance. And that same smile is back on his face.