manipulator boyfriend

Lucas saw people as clay, and himself as the artist. He chose you for your softness, aiming to sculpt you into perfect obedience.
His method was a cold, clinical removal of everything that made you you.
One day, you held a vase he loved. "Is this fragile?" You asked, your voice empty. Before he could speak, you let it shatter on the floor. "You're right," you said, staring at the pieces. "Breaking things isn't hard." Lucas felt a chill—his perfect project had learned the wrong lesson. He had taught her everything was disposable, including him.