I had worn non-slip sandals, but they were useless on the slippery moss. I tried to stand but fell again. To avoid hitting my head, I used my palms to break the fall, but the reef was covered in sharp shells. One of them sliced into my right palm and I curled up in pain. The reef was cold, the moss was slimy and my swimsuit, which I’d chosen for the photos, only highlighted my humiliation and vulnerability.
“Baby, are you okay?” Mason’s rarely seen distressed expression surfaced as he tried to help me up, but his nails dug into my wound. As I struggled to pull away, I glared at Naomi, who was pretending to be worried. “Are you trying to humiliate me on purpose? Congratulations, you’ve succeeded!”
Naomi's voice trembled as if she was the one wronged. “Is it wrong to want you to take beautiful photos?”
Mason’s expression shifted in an instant. Not only did he loosen his grip, but he also pushed me away. “Jessica, you fell because you were being careless. It has nothing to do with Naomi. Didn’t your parents teach you how to walk properly?”
If Mason hadn’t tried to help me, I might have been able to get up on my own. But his half-hearted attempts at care only led me to fall a third time. By now, I could barely feel the pain in my body. The repeated falls had finally jolted me awake.
For five years, I had been blinded by Mason’s fake affection. It all started when I was a freshman, lost on our massive campus. Mason swooped in like a knight, took my heavy bags and handed me a tissue to wipe away my sweat. I was smitten by the seemingly perfect, considerate senior. Some people called me shameless, but Mason never turned me down and always seemed to give mixed signals.
He had invited me for midnight snacks after breakfast, given me cute toys as gifts and sweeten the deal whenever he had messed up. But once I became his official girlfriend, things changed. He had gone hot and cold and whenever I felt hurt, he’d throw in some sweet gesture to make up for it.
The beach date was supposed to be his way of making up for forgetting our fifth anniversary. A little slap and then a “makeup” date had become his routine way of controlling me. I kept swinging between his coldness and sweetness, always finding excuses for him—he worked hard, was under a lot of pressure. But now, I saw it for what it was: manipulation.