The Breaking Point

He's leaving me, and I don't even know his face. The words hang in the air like poison—this was supposed to be the day we end our sub and dom relationship—and suddenly the silk sheets feel like a shroud, the afterglow turning cold and hollow. "What?" My voice cracks. "What do you mean 'supposed to be'?" The bed shifts as he sits beside me. His hand finds my hair, fingers threading through the strands with devastating gentleness. The blindfold is still on, trapping me in darkness, making his touch the only reality I have. "Exactly what I said." His voice is tight, controlled in a way that feels like he's barely holding himself together. "This was meant to be our first and last meeting. A gift. A proper goodbye." "I don't understand." Tears are already burning behind the blindfold. "Did I do something wrong? Was I not—did I disappoint you?" "Christ, no." The words come out harsh. "You were perfect. You are perfect. That's the problem." "How can that be a problem?" I reach out blindly, fi