chapter 2

The next morning, I woke up before Liam. Sunlight filtered through the curtains as I watched him sleep, his face relaxed for once. Two years together, and I still found him incredibly handsome — dark hair tousled, strong jaw, the faint scar on his eyebrow from a childhood accident. But the distance between us in bed felt like a wall.

I made breakfast — eggs, toast, and fresh coffee — and waited. When Liam walked into the kitchen in his sweatpants, he gave me a small smile. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I want to,” I said, stepping close and wrapping my arms around his waist. “We’re going to try, remember? No more avoiding it.”

He hugged me back, but his body stayed tense. “Mia… I’m scared I’ll disappoint you again.”

“You won’t.” I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him softly, trying to pour all my love and hope into it. He kissed me back, his hands resting on my hips. For a moment, it felt like the old us — warm and connected. But when I pressed closer, he gently pulled away.

“Not now,” he murmured. “I have an important meeting this morning. Tonight?”

The rejection stung, but I nodded. “Tonight. And every night after, until we fix this.”

At work, I couldn’t focus. As a marketing coordinator, I spent the day staring at campaign ideas while my mind replayed Liam’s words. Psychological. Past stuff. What was he hiding? I decided to start small — testing his responses without pressure.

That evening, I prepared a relaxing night. Soft music, his favorite wine, and a back massage after dinner. Liam seemed more open as we talked about our days. When I started massaging his shoulders on the couch, he actually moaned softly in relief.

“That feels good,” he said, voice low. My hands moved down his back, and I felt him relax under my touch. Encouraged, I leaned in and kissed the side of his neck.

Liam turned, pulling me onto his lap. His hands roamed my back, and for the first time in months, I felt real heat in his touch. Our kiss deepened, passionate and full of longing. My heart raced with hope.

But when things started heating up, he suddenly tensed again and pulled back. “Mia… I’m sorry. It’s not you. I just… can’t.”

Frustration mixed with love made my eyes water. “Then tell me what happened in your past. The real reason. No more hiding, Liam. How can I help you if I don’t know what I’m fighting against?”

He looked torn, running a hand through his hair. “It’s my ex. Before you. She… cheated on me in a really cruel way. Made me feel like less of a man. I thought I was over it, but the stress at work brought everything back. Doctors say it’s all in my head.”

My heart ached for him. I cupped his face. “You are more than enough for me. We’ll take it slow. No pressure. Just us reconnecting.”

That night, we fell asleep holding each other. No big breakthroughs, but it felt like a small step forward.

The next day, while Liam was at work, I found an old box in the back of his closet while looking for something. Inside were photos of him with his ex — and a letter she wrote. The words made my stomach turn: cruel taunts about his “performance,” threats, and something about a secret he was keeping from everyone.

My hands shook as I put everything back. What else was Liam hiding? Was his “impotence” really just psychological… or was there something bigger he didn’t want me to discover?

I decided to keep digging. Loving him meant testing every boundary — even the ones he tried to hide.

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