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But one tear falls.
She doesn’t wipe it.
Just lets it slide down her face.
And watching the woman I love—with every part of me I’ve never given anyone else—stand there tearing herself apart for me, fucking guts me.
And then, she says the one thing I wasn’t fucking prepared for.
“I want you to take my collar off.”
Her words slam into me like a blow to the ribs, and I can’t fucking breathe around it.
My lungs seize.
Breath crawls up my throat and dies there.
“This isn’t the end for me,” she says, eyes locked on mine. “I’m asking you to take it off because I know what it means. And I want to come back when I’m ready to wear it the way you deserve.”
In the space between heartbeats, I splinter inside.
That collar was never about control.
It wasn’t about claiming her.
It was about choosing her.
About her choosing me.
Every goddamn day. In every goddamn way.
It was a vow she didn’t have to speak. A trust I didn’t take lightly.
That collar meant she let me in to see the parts that were sacred to her. The parts she gave to no one else to cherish.
Asking me to unfasten it is like asking me to stop breathing.
But I’ll do it.
Because Amelia was never something I was meant to hold so tight she couldn’t breathe.
She’s something I make space for.
And that’s not distance.
That’s devotion.
It’s staying right here, waiting, while she finds her way through the dark.
It’s holding the shape of her in my world, even while she steps out of it.
It’s not letting go.
It’s loving her enough to know she’ll come back when she’s ready.
My hand goes to the chain around my neck—where the key has lived since the night I locked that collar around her throat. Where it’s stayed. Close enough to feel her, even when she’s not with me.
I curl my fingers around it, but I don’t move to unscrew it.