I Stole The Rest Of Your Life Chapter 2

He opened his phone, ready to take my digits with an expectant, confident grin.

I stared at the glowing screen, froze for a second, and instinctively took a nervous step backward. My throat tightened as familiar restrictions flashed through my mind, and I murmured timidly, "Sorry, I don't use social media."

Without waiting to see the stunned look on his face, I clutched my strap and hurried toward the exit.

As I reached the doorway, his voice carried across the emptying room, dripping with loud sarcasm. "It is 2026! Who on earth doesn't have an account anywhere? If you want to blow someone off, at least come up with a realistic excuse! Stop acting so superior!"

My steps faltered slightly, but I kept my eyes fixed ahead and kept walking.

What would be the point of secretly adding anyone?

Jason would just find it and delete them anyway.

He conducted a thorough, methodical audit of my phone and laptop every single weekend, inspecting my digital life like a federal warden auditing a high-risk inmate. Before college, he had restricted me to a basic flip phone, which made me the ultimate laughingstock among my high school peers.

No matter how many times I cried or complained about the isolation, he refused to budge. He insisted it was for my own protection, claiming smart devices would ruin my focus during crucial academic years.

In those dark, suffocating years immediately following our parents' funeral, he had sealed me inside an airtight glass jar.

Jason treated me like a fragile porcelain doll on the verge of shattering, and in my grief-stricken state, I clung to him as my sole surviving anchor. By the time the fog of mourning finally lifted, my psychological dependency had solidified. I had fully adapted to a solitary existence where he was my entire universe.

Having friends outside our apartment didn't even feel necessary anymore.

When exactly did I become completely alone, without a single person I could confide in?

After my morning classes concluded, I walked back to the apartment and immediately plugged the dead phone into a charging cable.

Once the screen lit up, I tried to dial the owner back, only to hit a passcode lock screen. I couldn't get past the four-digit PIN. My only option was to leave the device on the nightstand and wait for him to call again.

I tossed my bag onto the desk and stared up at the blank ceiling tiles. A few minutes later, the distinct click of the front door echoing from the hallway told me Jason was home.

I hopped off the mattress, my body automatically preparing to run out and greet him the way I always did. Then the humiliating memory of last night crashed over me, and I sank right back onto the edge of the bed.

I hadn't turned on the overhead lamp. I toyed with the idea of pretending I wasn't home at all, but the bedroom door swung inward before I could hide.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Bright light from the hallway flooded the dim room. Jason stood in the doorway wearing a tailored light gray dress shirt, looking completely composed, as if the midnight disaster had never happened.

"Come eat dinner. I picked up your favorite sweet and sour takeout from the dining hall."

Always like this.

A wave of crushing exhaustion washed through my bones.

Every single time I tried to tear down the invisible barrier between us, he simply plastered over the wreckage with suffocating kindness the very next morning.

The man I was deeply in love with stood right in front of me. I knew in my soul that he felt something profound for me too, yet he dodged the truth with relentless precision.

Part of me wished he would just turn cruel and banish me from his life completely, rather than keeping me suspended in this endless, torturous loop of gentle indulgence.

Sometimes the urge to scream at him, to grab his shirt and demand to know why he was torturing us both, felt almost impossible to contain.

But the words never made it past my throat.

I was caught in a miserable contradiction. Half of me prayed he would finally reject me with enough brutality to shatter my obsession, while the other half lived in mortal terror that he might actually walk away for good.

We sat at the dining table eating the food he had brought back from campus.

Jason taught advanced courses in the humanities department at Crestwood University. Or rather, after accepting a prestigious tenure-track offer from the university, he had gently steered my college applications until I enrolled at the exact same school.

"Your art appreciation professor mentioned you walked in late today."

"I checked the security feeds at the front gate and saw you left the building on schedule. Did something happen on your way across campus?"

He placed a tender piece of glazed pork into my bowl. The words were phrased like a casual observation, but the underlying interrogation was unmistakably clear.

"I found a lost phone by the flower beds and waited around to return it to whoever dropped it."

"Did you give it back?"

"Yes."

My hand tightened around my fork for a fraction of a second. I forced my posture to remain relaxed, hiding the sudden surge of panic sparked by the lie, and kept my eyes glued to my plate.

He offered a soft, approving smile and dropped the interrogation, shifting smoothly to academic planning.

"By the way, there is a major symposium for your department next Thursday. I already registered your name on the attendee list, and I will be accompanying you."

"After the keynote concludes, I will introduce you directly to Professor Vance. Try to make a solid impression so you can secure a research assistant spot in his new laboratory. You are heading into your junior year, and strengthening your academic portfolio now will guarantee your graduate school fellowship."

I gave a vague, noncommittal nod, keeping my mouth shut.

I hurried through the rest of my meal in silence, cleared my plate, and retreated to my bedroom.

The lost phone on the nightstand had charged past the fifty percent mark. I stretched out across my duvet, scrolling absentmindedly through my desolate contact list, assuming the owner wouldn't bother reaching out again until the morning.

Right as I was drifting into a light doze, the device began to buzz violently against the wood.