Louis

The sun was lazily warm, an ordinary day, a routine chat with my best friend in the park. About nothing in particular: clouds, school, some trivial matter. My phone buzzed in my pocket, tearing me out of my stream of words. I reluctantly looked away, glanced at the screen, and immediately grimaced. Louis. The ex who had suffocated me with his jealousy a year ago. I thought we'd broken up, I exhaled, but he seemed to have become attached, haunting me like a shadow, seething with rage at the sight of any man nearby.

• Move away.

At first I didn’t understand, but a wave of premonition had already washed over me.

• What?

• Get the fuck away from him.

The message burned. Please.

• Don't ignore me. If you don't move away, I'll come and get you myself.

• Get away from me.

"I said: move away. I don't like the way he's staring at you. Undressing you with his gaze."

• What nonsense? He's my friend.

• Either you come to me, or your friend will have a hard time.

I ignored it, hoping it would work.

• Okay, I got the answer.

And then he appeared out of nowhere. Louis. The blow landed squarely on the jaw, and my friend barely managed to stay on the bench. She jumped up as if stung.

• Are you an idiot?! Why did you do this?!

Louis calmly wiped the blood from his knuckles.

• Don't call me an idiot. I just don't like sharing. You're mine.