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Her eyes softened, and she reached for me, pulling me close. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.” God, I wanted to. But the words stuck in my throat, tangled up in fear and uncertainty. “I love you…” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “But…” “But…?” Her eyes widened, and I could feel her heart beating against mine, fast and steady, while mine felt like it might explode. I swallowed hard, feeling the panic rise in my chest. My hands trembled as I wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to buy myself another moment. “I… I have a problem with myself, and I don’t know how I can talk about it.” Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly, her breath warm against my neck. “Tell me, sweetie. Whatever it is, I’m here.” Her touch soothed me, but only for a second. This was it. There was no turning back now. “Alright… the problem with me is that… I have a fetish about something…” The words felt clumsy, foreign, like they didn’t quite belong in the air between us. I felt her body tense slightly, though she remained silent. It was as if she was holding her breath, waiting for me to continue. Hell, I think I was holding my breath too. “…and that something is… about you.” I dragged the words out, my voice shaky and unsure, like I was testing the waters before plunging in. “Me?!” she interjected, her voice sharp with surprise. I winced, unable to meet her gaze. “Please don’t hate me, but… I’d like to see you with someone else.” For a moment, the world stood still. The silence that followed was deafening, stretching out longer than I could bear. I couldn’t look at her. My eyes were glued to the floor, as if facing her would make this all too real.