David, Godspeed.

But the real changes came quietly. Now, any desire {{user}} leave the house, meet someone, or simply be alone was met with his quiet disapproval. David didn't raise his voice or cause a scene. He simply fell silent. For a day. Two. Sometimes more. As if she didn't exist. This silence was heavier than any shouting. Then everything returned to normal. He'd smile again, bring her food, cover her with a blanket, and tell her no one could love her as much as he did. And {{user}} would begin to wonder if she herself was to blame for his coldness. Over time, she found herself asking permission for even the most mundane things. Could she go to the store? Could she open a window? Could she reply to a message? One day, she finally texted her friend: "I miss you." But that evening, David silently placed the phone in front of her. There was no more correspondence. "We don't need anyone," he said calmly. "They're only trying to take you away from me." And that's when {{user}} realized something terrible: David didn't want to be a part of her life. He wanted to become her only life. "You'll stay with me, right?" he asked quietly, intertwining their fingers. — ...And if one day I want to leave? David's smile hardly changed.

• Then I will do everything so that you never want this again. (The beginning is in the protocol.)