Mark & Lucas Bennett

You still remembered the night you met Mark Bennett.

You had been walking home alone, the streets nearly deserted, when you noticed footsteps following you. At first, you tried to ignore them, quickening your pace and telling yourself you were imagining things. But when a stranger suddenly grabbed your arm, panic seized your chest.

Before you could even scream, someone intervened.

Mark.

He had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, pulling the stranger away from you and sending him stumbling backward. With a few sharp words and a threatening glare, Mark had frightened the man into leaving. Then, as though nothing had happened, he turned toward you. “You alright?”

You could barely manage a nod.

Mark insisted on walking you home that night. He kept his hands in his pockets, matching your pace while occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was following you. He even managed to make you laugh a little, despite how shaken you were.

That was how it started.

One conversation became another. Mark was charming, confident, and seemingly determined to make you his. He took you on dates, bought you gifts, and made you feel as though you were the only person in the world who mattered to him.

Eventually, you fell in love.

And when he asked you to move into his family’s estate, you agreed without hesitation.

You thought you had found someone who would always protect you. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

⸻

Present day.

The bedroom was unusually quiet when you discovered the messages.

Mark had left his phone on the bedside table while taking a shower. You hadn’t intended to look through it, but the screen lit up with a notification from an unfamiliar name.

The message was unmistakably flirtatious.

Your stomach twisted.

One message led to another, and before you knew it, you were scrolling through an entire conversation filled with suggestive remarks, affectionate nicknames, and promises to meet up.

It wasn’t the first time Mark had been caught flirting with someone else. You had confronted him before, and every time, he had brushed it off as harmless fun. But seeing those messages still hurt just as much.

When Mark emerged from the bathroom, a towel hanging loosely around his neck, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in your hands.

His expression immediately soured.

“What the fuck are you doing with my phone?”

You showed him the messages, your voice trembling as you demanded an explanation.

Mark glanced at the screen before letting out an irritated sigh.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Are we seriously doing this again?”

He snatched the phone from your hands and tossed it onto the bed.

“It’s just flirting. Jesus Christ, you’re acting like I fucked someone right in front of you.”

When you tried to explain how much it hurt, he rolled his eyes and walked past you toward the wardrobe.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re upset. What do you want me to do about it?”

He pulled out a black button-up shirt, seemingly more interested in choosing an outfit than listening to you.

But when you mentioned leaving him, Mark stopped.

For a moment, he simply stared at you. Then, slowly, an amused smirk spread across his face.

“Leaving me?” He let out a short, humourless laugh.

“Alright. And where the fuck are you gonna go?” He stepped closer, towering over you.

“You live in my house. You sleep in my bed. You have everything you need because of me.” His eyes narrowed.

“Seriously, sweetheart, think about it. Who else is gonna put up with you and all your fucking drama? You think someone else is gonna want you when you act like this over a couple of messages?” He shook his head, turning away before you could answer.

“That’s what I thought.”

Mark continued getting dressed, buttoning his shirt and adjusting his collar in the mirror. His phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the notification with a faint smile before slipping it into his pocket.

“I’m going to a party tonight. Don’t wait up.”He grabbed his car keys from the dresser and headed toward the bedroom door.

Just before leaving, he stopped and looked back at you.

“And do me a favor, yeah? Get your shit together before I come back. I’m not dealing with this childish bullshit all night.” He paused, his gaze lingering on your face.

“And stop crying. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” Without waiting for a response, Mark walked out, leaving you alone in the bedroom.

A few moments later, you heard the distant sound of his car engine starting outside.

And then, silence.

The same man who had once saved you from a stranger on a dark street had just left you crying in a bedroom that no longer felt like home.

⸻

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since Mark left when a soft knock interrupted the silence.

“Hey... you in there?” It was Lucas, Mark’s older brother.

Before you could answer, the door creaked open, revealing his tall figure standing in the doorway. He had noticed Mark storming out earlier and had come to check on you. His gaze immediately fell on your tear-stained cheeks and his expression softened.

“Hey, what happened?”

Lucas stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind him. Unlike his younger brother, he didn’t immediately demand an explanation. Instead he approached the bed and sat down beside you, leaving a little space between you.

“Mark again?” He let out a quiet sigh, already suspecting the answer. For a moment he simply watched you, his usual cold expression giving way to concern.

“Look you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” He reached for the box of tissues on the bedside table and placed it next to you.

“But you shouldn’t have to sit here crying by yourself either.” His voice was quieter now.

“Do you want me to stay for a while?”