After that morning in the kitchen, the air was pretty much tense. Mark and I fell into this strained rhythm — tense silences, stolen glances and words left unsaid. It was exhausting.I wasn't built for this kind of isolation, trapped in a penthouse buried deep in the woods felt like a punishment, like a cage that had luxury floors and designer curtains. I know Mark had kept me here for my own "safety," but it felt more like a prison.

I sat now staring at the ceiling while Mark locked himself ...