Chapter 5: Breaking Points and Breakthroughs

She wasn’t really a threat—just gripped my shoulders tightly. "Harper, you must know I like you. Want to give us a shot?"

Her voice was soft, pleading. I shook my head, stepping back.

"No way." I broke free. "I’d never be with someone like you."

I kept my tone firm, refusing to give her hope. Jess’s eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t waver.

"I really like you, Harper. You’re beautiful, I’m not bad either. We worked together—we’re a great match."

She reached for my hand, but I pulled away. I couldn’t give her what she wanted.

"I said no. That’s final!"

I raised my voice, hoping she’d finally listen. Jess hesitated, then lunged for me, trying to hug me.

She tried to hug me.

I shoved her away, fear and anger mixing in my chest. I remembered all the times I’d been bullied, all the times I’d felt powerless.

When I was little, I got bullied for being weak—called ‘the kid with no dad,’ hair pulled, clothes drawn on, bruises everywhere.

The memories flooded back, raw and painful. I clenched my fists, determined not to let Jess hurt me.

Even after all these years, I was still terrified. "Let go!" I could feel my old panic clawing at my throat, but I wasn’t going to freeze.

"Get lost!"

Jess was shoved aside—Mason’s fists landed on her, one after another.

He appeared out of nowhere, his face twisted in anger. He didn’t hold back, his punches landing with brutal force.

Under the dim streetlight, Mason’s face was sharp, veins bulging on his hands—he didn’t hold back. My heart slammed in my chest. I’d never seen him this furious.

This was the second time I’d seen Mason lose it.

The first time had been years ago, but the memory was still fresh. I shivered, remembering the fear and awe I’d felt.

The first was when I was fifteen and tried to sneak a smoke in my room.

I’d thought I was being clever, hiding the cigarettes in my desk drawer. But Mason had caught me, his eyes blazing with anger.

Before I could light up, Mason barged in.

He slammed the door open, his face thunderous. I froze, cigarette in hand.

"What’s in your hand?!"

His voice was sharp, demanding. I tried to hide the cigarette, but it was too late.

He was still calm then.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. I could see the hurt in his eyes.

"Nothing."

I lied, but Mason wasn’t fooled. He held out his hand, waiting.

"Hand it over."

His tone was firm, unyielding. I hesitated, but eventually handed it over.

The lit cigarette burned my palm.

I winced, the pain sharp. Mason snatched it away, his grip gentle.

Rebellion gave me courage. "Who are you to control me? What are we to each other?"

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Mason’s eyes softened, just for a moment.

No one cared about me then—I was a weed growing wild, with no one to tend me.

I felt alone, abandoned. Mason was the only one who ever paid attention, even if it was just to scold me.

Mason got furious, gripping my wrist hard. "Harper, maybe no one’s watching you, but that’s not an excuse to do whatever you want."

His voice was rough, but there was a hint of concern. I looked away, ashamed.

I burst into tears. "It hurts…"

The tears came fast, hot and uncontrollable. Mason’s grip loosened, his eyes wide with panic.

Mason’s hand shook as he let me go.

He stepped back, hands trembling. I wiped my eyes, embarrassed.

The next day, I saw him beat up a bunch of punks. "She’s clean—who said you could mess with her?"

He’d found out someone had spread rumors about me, and he’d made sure they paid for it. I watched from a distance, awe and fear mixing in my chest.

Mason, enraged, was terrifying. I screamed, afraid he’d kill someone.

I called the cops, desperate to stop the fight. Mason was hauled away, but he never blamed me.

The cops were called, Uncle Mark scolded him hard.

He took the punishment without complaint, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt guilty, but also grateful.

But Mason never told on me for smoking.

He kept my secret, even when it cost him. I wondered why he cared so much.

After that, I was even more scared of him.

His anger was unpredictable, but his loyalty was unwavering. I kept my distance, but I never forgot what he’d done for me.

But somehow, that was the first time my dead-end life stirred.

I realized I wasn’t alone—not really. Mason was always there, even when I didn’t want him to be.

Jess got wrecked.

Mason’s fists landed with brutal precision, each punch a promise to protect me. I watched, awe and fear mixing in my chest.

It had only been five minutes since I texted Mason for help.

He’d come running, no questions asked. I wondered if he’d always be there for me, no matter what.

My heart ached, hot and raw—like it was being squeezed.

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. The pain was sharp, but I welcomed it. It meant I was alive.

After Mason fought for me that first time, we barely spoke for ages.

The silence was heavy, but comforting. I knew he was there, even if we didn’t talk.

One day, he suddenly talked to me again. At first I was cautious, but Mason wasn’t cold anymore.

He smiled more, joked more. The ice between us started to melt, slowly but surely.

It was like spring finally breaking through after a long winter.

The world felt brighter, lighter. I smiled more, laughed more. I was finally starting to feel at home.

Tears streamed down my face as I ran up and hugged Mason from behind.

He stiffened, surprised. I buried my face in his back, sobbing.

He stiffened, then kicked Jess. "Get lost."

His voice was sharp, commanding. Jess stumbled away, defeated.

Then he turned and pulled me into his arms.

His embrace was warm, comforting. I melted into him, letting the tears flow.

"Cry if you want. She’s gone—won’t bother you again."

His voice was soft, reassuring. I nodded, clinging to him.

"Bro, hold me tighter."

I whispered the words, barely audible. Mason squeezed me tighter, his arms a safe haven.

Mason tightened his arms, and I soaked up his warmth.

For the first time in a long time, I felt safe—like nothing could hurt me.

"You don’t have to try so hard."

His voice was gentle, understanding. I sniffled, nodding.

For a moment, I wondered if Mason knew my plan.

I glanced up at him, searching his face. He just smiled, his eyes soft.

I was determined to have him.

No matter what it took, I wouldn’t give up. Mason was worth fighting for.

But we were so different—from family background to everything else, with so many obstacles in the way.

I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I was willing to try. Mason was the only person who ever made me feel alive.

And our relationship didn’t allow for recklessness—I didn’t want our parents to fall out because of us.

I treaded carefully, weighing every move. I wouldn’t risk hurting the people I loved.

So I studied, worked, behaved, improved.

I poured myself into my studies, my work, my hobbies. I wanted to be someone Mason could be proud of.

Every step took so much effort.

Some days, I wanted to give up. But then I’d see Mason’s smile, and I’d keep going.

I had to be the best, just to earn a single moment of freedom with Mason.

I worked harder than anyone else, determined to prove myself. Mason was my motivation, my inspiration.

When a good person does something wild, their brilliance shields them. When a bad person does the same, it just adds to their record.

I knew the world was unfair, but I refused to let it break me. I’d carve out my own path, no matter what.

"Harper, I’ll always be here. Can you… stop for a bit?"

Mason’s voice was soft, pleading. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face.

"I don’t want to, and I can’t."

I met his gaze, determination in my eyes. Mason sighed, pulling me closer.

Because you’re still ahead of me.

I whispered the words, barely audible. Mason smiled, understanding.

"I get it. But Harper, can you stop carrying it all alone?"

He squeezed my hand, his eyes gentle. I nodded, finally letting myself lean on him.

Mason hugged me tighter. "This is our thing—not just yours."

His words were a balm, soothing the ache in my chest. I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in years.

Right then, I knew for sure—Mason understood everything I’d done.

He saw me, truly saw me. And he didn’t run away.

He really knew it all.

I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through me. I wasn’t alone—not anymore.

"Mason, I’m really choosing you. I’m sticking with you."