The next two days were a special kind of hell. A self-inflicted torture chamber of her own making. Lily’s small apartment felt like a prison, her bed a rack where she was stretched and teased. His words were a brand seared into her mind: “You will not come.” It was a command that had rewired her entire nervous system, turning her own body into a traitor.

Every night, she would lie in the darkness, her skin humming with a low, desperate ache. She would try to read, try to watch ...