My abusive ex threatened every man who looked at me until I started dating an MMA fighter who’s 6’5. My name is Madison and I’m 27 years old. Three years ago, I finally left Derek after four years of the worst relationship of my life. But leaving him didn’t mean he left me alone. The threat started the day after I moved out.

I was at Target just trying to buy some basic things for my new apartment when this guy around my age smiled at me in the cleaning supplies aisle. Just a friendly smile. Nothing weird. I smiled back because that’s what normal people do. 2 hours later, Dererick showed up at my new place. I still don’t know how he found my address.

He banged on the door so hard I thought he’d break it down. I saw you at Target. He screamed through the door. I saw that guy looking at you. You think you can just move on? You think I’m going to let some random guy think he has a chance with you? I called the cops. They came. They talked to him. He was calm by then.

All smiles and apologies. Said it was a misunderstanding. Said we’d just broken up and emotions were high. The officers basically told us both to move on with our lives. That was the first time. The second time was at a coffee shop. A barista made small talk with me while making my latte. Dererick was somehow there sitting in the corner.

I hadn’t even seen him. The barista, this sweet kid who couldn’t have been older than 19, ended his shift and found all four of his tires slashed in the parking lot. I knew it was Derek. The barista didn’t make the connection, but I did. The third time was at my gym. A guy asked if I was done with a machine. Just asked.

Derek followed him to his car and apparently got in his face, telling him to stay away from me or he’d regret it. The guy came back inside and complained to the staff. They reviewed the security footage. Dererick was banned from the property, but it didn’t stop. For 2 years, this was my life.

I couldn’t talk to men. I couldn’t smile at anyone. I couldn’t exist in public without wondering if Dererick was watching. I filed for a restraining order, but Dererick was smart. He never did anything directly to me. It was always the men around me who suffered. And somehow he always had an alibi or a reason or just enough deniability that nothing stuck.

My friends told me to move cities. My mom wanted me to come back home to Ohio, but I’d built a life in Austin, Texas. I had a good job as a graphic designer. I had my apartment. I had my routine. Why should I be the one to run? So, I stayed and I became invisible. I stopped going out. I stopped dating. I barely left my apartment except for work.

I was 25 years old and living like a prisoner. Then I met Cameron. It was a Wednesday afternoon and my laptop died right in the middle of a deadline. Just completely gave up. I panicked and ran to the electronics repair shop two blocks from my office, practically in tears. Cameron was behind the counter. He was massive.

I’m 5’4 and I had to crane my neck back to look at him. He had to be at least 6’5, maybe taller. Broad shoulders, hands the size of dinner plates. His nose looked like it had been broken more than once and he had a scar through his left eyebrow. He looked terrifying, but when he spoke, his voice was gentle. Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Let me take a look.

I explained the deadline, the panic, everything just spilling out. He listened patiently, then smiled. I can have this fixed in an hour. There’s a cafe next door. Go get yourself a coffee. Try to relax and come back. I’ve got you. I wanted to tell him not to talk to me. I wanted to explain that being nice to me would put him in danger, but the deadline was in 3 hours, and I was desperate, so I just said, “Thank you.

” An hour later, my laptop was fixed. Cameron refused to charge me for the labor. First time customer discount, he said with a grin. just pay for the part. I should have left it there. I should have taken my laptop and never come back. But something about him felt safe. Maybe it was because he was so big that I couldn’t imagine Dererick actually intimidating him.

Maybe I was just tired of being scared. Thank you, I said. Really? You saved my life today. Anytime. He handed me a business card. We’re here 6 days a week. Anything techreated breaks, you know where to find me. I left the shop and made it half a block before I realized Dererick was across the street leaning against a building watching me. Our eyes met.

He smiled. Not a friendly smile, a warning. My stomach dropped. I walked faster, got back to my office and spent the rest of the day feeling sick. That night, I drove past the repair shop on my way home. The lights were still on. I could see Cameron through the window working on something at the counter.

I parked across the street and just sat there watching, waiting for Derek to show up and do something horrible, but nothing happened. Cameron locked up at 7:00, walked to a huge pickup truck, and drove away. I went home and didn’t sleep. The next morning, I couldn’t focus on work. I kept checking the repair shop’s Facebook page, expecting to see a post about vandalism or something worse, but there was nothing.

At lunch, I walked past the shop. Cameron was there, alive and well, helping a customer. He saw me through the window and waved. I waved back and kept walking, my heart pounding. 3 days passed. Nothing happened. Dererick didn’t show up at my apartment. Cameron’s shop wasn’t vandalized. No slash tires, no threatening encounters.

It didn’t make sense. On Saturday, I went to the farmers market downtown. I used to go every week before Derek, but I’d stopped because he always found me there. This was the first time I’d gone in over a year. I was looking at tomatoes when I heard a familiar voice behind me. Madison, I turned. Cameron was standing there in athletic shorts and a tank top holding a reusable shopping bag.

His arms were huge. Not gym rat huge, fighter huge, all functional muscle and scars. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I didn’t know you came here every Saturday.” He smiled. “The vendor over there makes these breakfast burritos that are incredible. You tried them?” I shook my head. “Come on, my treat.

Consider it an apology for overcharging you on that laptop heart. You didn’t overcharge me.” “I know, but I’m getting you a burrito anyway.” Something about the way he said it made it impossible to argue. We walked to the vendor together and Cameron ordered two burritos and two freshsqueezed lemonades. We found a spot under a tree to eat and we talked. Really talked.

He told me about growing up in Minnesota, about moving to Austin 5 years ago. About how he’d always been good with technology but needed a physical outlet, which is why he trained. Trained what? I asked. MMA, mixed martial arts. I fight professionally. Well, semi-professionally. I’ve had 12 fights. One nine. My stomach tightened.

You’re a fighter. Yeah. He took a bite of his burrito. I know. I know. People hear that and think I’m some aggressive meatthead, but honestly, it’s the opposite. Fighting teaches you control, discipline. When you really know how to hurt someone, you become very careful about not doing it. I didn’t know what to say.

Part of me wanted to get up and leave. Part of me wanted to tell him everything about Derek. Part of me just wanted to sit there and enjoy a normal conversation for the first time in years. We talked for 2 hours. He was funny and smart and surprisingly gentle for someone who beat people up for a living. When we finally said goodbye, he asked if he could have my number.

I hesitated. Every instinct told me this was dangerous, but I was so tired of being afraid. I gave him my number. That night, he texted me. Thanks for the farmers market. That was nice. Would you want to get dinner sometime? I stared at my phone for 10 minutes before responding. I need to tell you something first. Okay.

So, I told him everything about Derek, about the threats, about the pattern of men around me getting hurt or scared off, about how I hadn’t dated anyone in 2 years because I didn’t want anyone else to suffer. I expected him to stop responding. I expected him to make an excuse and disappear like any reasonable person would.

Instead, he wrote back, “That’s horrible. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with that. But here’s the thing, Madison. I’m not afraid of your ex, and I’d really like to take you to dinner.” We went to dinner on Tuesday, a nice Italian place downtown. I was paranoid the entire time, scanning the restaurant for Dererick’s face, but he wasn’t there.

Cameron told me about his upcoming fight. It was in 3 weeks here in Austin. He seemed excited but nervous. “My opponent is tough. He’s got a wrestling background, and that’s always been my weakness. What’s your strength?” I asked. Striking. I’m a boxer first, but in MMA, you can’t just be one thing. You have to be well-rounded.

After dinner, he walked me to my car. I had a great time, he said. Can we do this again? Yes, I said, and I meant it. We started seeing each other regularly. Two dates a week became three, then four. He never pushed for anything physical beyond holding hands or a kiss good night. He was patient and kind and made me feel safe for the first time in years.

And Derek didn’t show up, not once. It was weird, unsettling. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. 3 weeks into dating Cameron, I went to his fight. He’d given me two tickets, so I brought my friend Jessica. She’d been my best friend since college and had watched Dererick destroy my life in real time.

“I can’t believe you’re dating someone,” Jessica said as we found our seats. “And I really can’t believe you’re dating a cage fighter. He’s not what you’d expect,” I said clearly. “Look at you. You’re smiling. You’re out in public. You’re living again. The fight was intense. I’d never watched MMA before, and the violence of it shocked me.

But Cameron was incredible, fast and precise.” He knocked his opponent out in the second round. After the fight, we went backstage to congratulate him. His face was bruised and his knuckles were taped, but he was grinning. You came, he said when he saw me. Of course I came. He kissed me right there in front of everyone.

It was the first time he’d really kissed me, and it felt like everything clicked into place. We went out to celebrate with his team and some friends. At the bar, Cameron introduced me to everyone. This is Madison, my girlfriend. Girlfriend? The word made my heart race. I hadn’t been anyone’s girlfriend since Derek. That night, after everyone else had left, Cameron and I sat in his truck in the parking lot.

I need to tell you something, he said. My chest tightened. Here it comes, I thought. This is where he tells me it’s too much. That Derek is too much. But instead, he said, “Your ex came to see me.” About 2 weeks ago, everything stopped. “What?” He showed up at the shop, waited until I was alone, and came in.

Started making threats, told me to stay away from you, said he’d make my life hell if I didn’t. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Cameron, I’m so sorry. I should have warned you better. I should have Madison. He took my hand. Let me finish. So, your ex is standing there trying to intimidate me, telling me all the things he’s done to other guys who talk to you.

And I just listened. Let him say his peace. Then, you know what I did? I shook my head. I told him I fight for a living. That I’ve trained for 12 years. that I’ve been hit by the best strikers in Texas and taken down by the best wrestlers. And that if he ever came near you again, if he ever so much as sent you a text message or drove past your apartment, I would find him and it wouldn’t be a threat.

It would be a promise. My hands were shaking. What did he do? He tried to act tough for about 10 more seconds. Then he realized I wasn’t backing down and he left. Haven’t heard from him since. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. You threatened him. I didn’t threaten him. I made him understand consequences. There’s a difference.

Cameron looked at me seriously. Madison, I know what you’ve been through and I know you’ve probably been protecting everyone around you for years, but you don’t have to protect me. I can take care of myself and more importantly, I want to take care of you. That was 4 months ago. Dererick hasn’t contacted me since. Hasn’t showed up anywhere.

Hasn’t heard anyone around me for the first time in over 2 years. I’m free. Cameron and I are still together. I go to all his fights now. He’s won his last three. We moved in together last month into a little house with a yard. The house was Cameron’s idea. He’d been living in a tiny apartment above the repair shop, and I’d been in my onebedroom with the traumatic memories.

We decided to start fresh together. House hunting was an adventure. Every place we looked at, I caught myself thinking about security. Good locks, well-lit streets, easy escape routes, Cameron noticed. We’re going to find a place where you feel safe, he said. Take your time. We found it 3 weeks later. A small two-bedroom in a quiet neighborhood.

The landlord was this sweet older woman named Patricia who lived two houses down. She took one look at Cameron and said, “Oh, good. You’re a big one. We could use more good men on this street.” Cameron laughed. “I’ll do my best, ma’am. We moved in on a Saturday.” Jessica came to help along with Cameron’s two training partners, Marcus and David.

Both of them were fighters, too, though not as big as Cameron. They treated me like I was already family. Cameron never shuts up about you, Marcus said while carrying boxes. It’s honestly annoying. Madison this, Madison that. We get it, dude. You’re in love. Cameron threw a roll of packing tape at him. That first night in the new house, we ordered pizza and sat on the floor because we didn’t have furniture yet.

Cameron put his arm around me and said, “This is ours, our space, our life. Nobody else gets to touch this.” I believed him. The next few months were the happiest of my life. I was learning what a normal relationship felt like. Cameron and I had our first real fight about 3 months in. It was stupid. Something about him forgetting to tell me he’d be late from the gym.

I got anxious because he wasn’t answering his phone. And when he finally got home, I snapped at him. He didn’t yell back. He just said, “You’re right.” I should have called. I’m sorry. That was it. No screaming, no punishment, no silent treatment for days. Just an apology and a promise to do better. I cried.

Just stood there in our kitchen and cried because I’d forgotten that fights could be that simple. Cameron held me while I explained about how Dererick used to turn every small disagreement into a war. how he’d give me the silent treatment for days, refuse to tell me what I’d done wrong, make me beg for forgiveness for things I didn’t even understand.

I’m never going to do that to you, Cameron said. We’re going to fight sometimes. That’s normal, but we’re going to fight fair and we’re always going to come back to each other. Always. I’m learning to live again, to go out without fear, to smile at strangers, to exist in the world as a normal person. But it wasn’t all smooth. About 5 months into our relationship, I had a panic attack at a restaurant.

We were at dinner with some of Cameron’s friends from the gym, and one of them brought his new girlfriend. Her name was Emily and she seemed nice enough. But she was the same age as me with long dark hair like mine. And when she started telling a story about her ex-boyfriend, something about the way she described him made my chest tighten.

The restaurant was crowded and loud. Too many people, too many men. And suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. I excused myself to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall, trying to remember the breathing exercises my old therapist had taught me. But I couldn’t calm down. My heart was racing. My hands were shaking.

I was convinced Dererick was out there watching, waiting. Jessica found me 10 minutes later. She’d noticed I’d been gone too long and came looking. She sat on the bathroom floor with me while I fell apart. It’s okay. She kept saying, “You’re safe. Dererick isn’t here. Cameron is right outside. You’re safe.” Eventually, Cameron came looking for both of us.

He took one look at me and understood immediately. He didn’t ask questions. He just helped me up, told his friends we had to go and drove me home. In bed that night, I apologized. “I ruined dinner.” “You didn’t ruin anything.” He said, “You had a panic attack. That’s not your fault.” “I thought I was getting better.” “You are getting better.

But healing isn’t linear. Some days are going to be hard. That’s okay.” He convinced me to start seeing a therapist again. Her name was Dr. Lisa Chen, and yes, I noticed she had the same last name as Cameron. She specialized in trauma and recovery. Dr. Chen was good. Really good. She didn’t make me relive everything, but she helped me process it.

Helped me understand that what Dererick did wasn’t my fault, that I didn’t deserve it, that I didn’t cause it. You can’t control other people’s actions, she told me during one session. You can only control your response, and you responded by surviving. That takes strength. The therapy helped. Slowly, gradually, I started feeling more like myself.

The self I was before Derek. The girl who laughed easily and trusted people and didn’t flinch when someone raised their voice. Last week, I was at the grocery store by myself when I saw Derek in the frozen food aisle. My whole body went rigid. He saw me, too. For a second, we just stared at each other.

Then, he grabbed his cart and walked in the opposite direction without saying a word. I stood there for a minute, processing. Then, I laughed. Actually laughed out loud in the middle of the grocery store because Dererick was afraid not of me, but of the person who chose to stand beside me. That night, I told Cameron what happened.

He ran away from you, Cameron said, grinning. Good. I feel like I should feel bad about that, I said. Like, you essentially scared him into leaving me alone through intimidation. Isn’t that just more of the same? Cameron thought about it. The difference is I’m not controlling you. I’m not telling you who you can talk to or where you can go.

I’m not making your life smaller. I made sure he couldn’t do that anymore. That’s not the same thing. He was right. A few days after that, something strange happened. I got a message on Facebook from a woman named Amber. I didn’t recognize her name, but her profile showed she lived in Austin. The message said, “I hope this isn’t weird, but I heard through a mutual friend that you used to date Derek Morrison.

I’m reaching out because I just started dating him and some things are starting to feel off. I was wondering if we could talk.” My blood went cold. Derrick had moved on and he was already starting the same pattern with someone else. I called Cameron immediately and read him the message. What do I do? You meet with her, he said without hesitation.

You tell her everything. You give her the chance you never had. So, I did. Amber and I met at a coffee shop the next day. She was 23, pretty, and looked nervous as hell. I didn’t sugarcoat anything. I told her about the four years of control and manipulation, about how Dererick isolated me from my friends, about how he tracked my location, about how he monitored my texts, about the threats after I left, about the 2 years of hell where I couldn’t even have a normal conversation with a man without Derek making them suffer for it. Amber’s face

got paler and paler as I talked. “He told me you were crazy,” she whispered. “That you made up lies about him, that you cheated on him, and then tried to ruin his life when he broke up with you. That’s what he does,” I said. “He rewrites history, makes himself the victim. He’s already started checking my phone,” Amber said quietly.

He says it’s because he has trust issues from his last relationship from you. I thought I was helping him heal. You’re not helping him. You’re enabling him, and it’s going to get worse. Amber left the coffee shop in tears. I didn’t know if she’d take my advice or not. Some people need to learn the hard way.

But 2 days later, she texted me. I broke up with him. He lost his mind, started screaming, and punching walls, but I got out. Thank you. I showed Cameron the message. You saved her, he said. You broke the cycle. We broke the cycle. I corrected. But the story with Amber didn’t end there. 3 days after she broke up with Dererick, she called me in a panic.

“He’s outside my apartment,” she said, her voice shaking. “He’s been out there for an hour, just sitting in his car, watching my window. I called the police, but they said unless he does something, there’s nothing they can do.” “Where do you live?” I asked. She gave me the address. It was only 15 minutes away. I didn’t even think.

I just grabbed my keys and headed for the door. Cameron stopped me. “Where are you going?” “Amber’s place.” “Derek is there. She’s scared.” “Then I’m coming with you.” We drove to Amber’s apartment together. Sure enough, Dererick’s car was parked across the street. I could see him in the driver’s seat staring up at one of the windows.

Cameron parked right behind him. Then he got out of the truck and walked up to Dererick’s car. I watched from our truck as Cameron knocked on Dererick’s window. Dererick rolled it down. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could see Dererick’s face. He looked angry at first, then scared.

Then he started the car and drove away. Cameron came back to the truck. He’s gone. What did you say to him? I reminded him of our last conversation and I told him that if he ever harassed you, me, or anyone else in your life again, I would make sure everyone in Austin knew exactly what kind of person he is, including his employer, his employer.

I did some research after he came to the shop. Dererick works at a financial firm downtown. They have a whole code of conduct policy. I doubt they’d be thrilled to know one of their employees is stalking multiple women. I stared at him. You researched him? Of course, I did. Know your enemy. That’s fighting 101. We went up to Amber’s apartment.

She was still shaking, but she was grateful. We stayed with her for an hour, making sure Dererick didn’t come back. Before we left, I gave her Dr. Chen’s contact information. Therapy helps, I said. Trust me. That weekend, we were at the farmers market again. Same spot where we’d had our first real conversation.

We were eating burritos under the same tree when Cameron said, I’m fighting for the regional championship next month. It’s the biggest fight of my career. I’ll be there, I said immediately. I know you will. He took my hand. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Madison, before I met you, fighting was everything to me.

It was my whole identity, my whole purpose. But now I don’t know. It’s still important, but it’s not everything anymore. You’re everything. My heart was pounding. Cameron, I’m not proposing, he said quickly, laughing. Not yet, anyway. I just wanted you to know that meeting you changed my life. You made me remember that there’s more to life than fighting.

That being strong isn’t just about how hard you can hit. It’s about who you protect, who you stand up for, who you choose. I kissed him right there under the tree in the middle of the farmers market. People probably stared. I didn’t care. The championship fight was 3 weeks later.

Cameron’s opponent was a guy from Houston with an intimidating record. 18 wins, two losses. Both of Cameron’s coaches were worried, but Cameron wasn’t. “I’m ready,” he told me the night before the fight. “I’ve trained harder for this than anything in my life, but even if I lose, I’ve already won because I have you.” The fight was brutal. Five rounds.

Cameron took some heavy hits. His face was bloody by the third round, but he never gave up. He kept pushing, kept fighting, kept moving forward. I couldn’t watch half the time. Jessica sat next to me, holding my hand. Every time Cameron got hit, I flinched, but every time he got back up, I cheered louder.

In the fifth round, with less than a minute left, Cameron landed a perfect combination. His opponent went down. The referee stopped the fight. Cameron won. The crowd went insane. I screamed until my throat hurt. Jessica was jumping up and down beside me. When they announced Cameron as the new regional champion, I cried. Actually cried, happy tears for the first time in years.

After the fight in the locker room, Cameron’s face was swollen and bruised. His eye was almost shut, but he was smiling. We did it, he said. You did it, I corrected. No, we You think I could have focused on training if I was constantly worried about some psycho threatening you? You freed me just as much as I freed you. He was right.

We’d saved each other. A few weeks after the championship, Cameron got offered a contract with a bigger promotion, better money, better exposure, better opponents. It meant more travel, more risk, more time apart. What do you think? He asked me. Should I take it? Absolutely, I said without hesitation. This is your dream.

I’m not going to hold you back. You could never hold me back, he pulled me close. Come with me to the fights, to the training camps, to everything. I don’t want to do this without you. So that’s what we did. I went remote with my design job and we started traveling. I watched him fight in Dallas, San Antonio, Las Vegas. He won some, he lost some, but he was happy. We were happy.

His first loss was hard to watch. It was in Las Vegas against a fighter who’d been training for 15 years. Cameron fought well, but the other guy was just better that night. When the judges announced the decision, I saw the disappointment on Cameron’s face. After the fight in the hotel room, he was quiet, just sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. You fought well, I said.

Not well enough. You can’t win every fight. That’s not how this works. I know it’s just hard. I wanted to win that one for you. I sat down next to him. Cameron, I don’t need you to win fights for me. I need you to be safe, to be healthy, to come home to me. That’s all I care about. He looked at me then, really looked at me.

How did I get so lucky? We both got lucky. 6 months into his new contract, we were in a hotel room in Phoenix the night before a fight. Cameron was supposed to be sleeping, conserving energy, but instead he was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking nervous. What’s wrong? I asked. Nothing’s wrong. He stood up and pulled something from his gym bag, a small box.

My heart stopped. Madison, I know I said I wasn’t proposing at the farmers market, but that was months ago. And I’ve been carrying this around to every fight, waiting for the right moment. And I realized something. There is no right moment. There’s just us, and I don’t want to wait anymore. He opened the box.

Inside was a simple ring, beautiful and perfect. Will you marry me? I couldn’t speak. I just nodded and held out my hand. He put the ring on my finger and we both started crying. These huge, embarrassing, happy tears. The next night, he won his fight. Dedicated the victory to his fianceé. That was 2 months ago.

We’re planning the wedding now. Something small. Just close friends and family. Jessica is going to be my maid of honor. Cameron’s brothers are flying in from Minnesota. Wedding planning has been interesting. Cameron wants to be involved in everything, which is sweet, but also kind of hilarious. This giant fighter sitting with me at a bakery, trying different types of cake, seriously discussing the merits of buttercream versus fondant.

I want lemon, he said during our tasting. But with the raspberry filling, oo, I said surprised. The baker smiled. You two are meant for each other. We decided on an outdoor wedding, small and intimate, just 40 people. Cameron’s gym is letting us use their outdoor training area, which sounds weird, but they’ve got this beautiful space with string lights and a view of the hills.

It’s where we became who we are, Cameron said. Seems fitting. Last week, I got another Facebook message, this time from a guy named Tyler. I heard you know Derek Morrison, the message said. I’m a private investigator. I’ve been hired by his current girlfriend to look into some threatening behavior. Would you be willing to give a statement? Apparently, Derek had moved on to another victim, a woman named Rachel.

And Rachel was smarter than the rest of us. She’d hired a PI before things got too bad. The PI was building a case for a restraining order that might actually stick. I gave my statement. So did Amber. Then the PI contacted me again. We found five other women, he said. All with similar stories. We’re building a pattern of behavior case.

Would you be willing to testify if it goes to court? I looked at Cameron. He was making dinner, moving around our kitchen like he’d always been there. Our kitchen, our home, our life. Yes, I told the PI. I’ll testify. 3 weeks later, I got a call from the PI. Derrick’s been served with a restraining order, and the district attorney is considering charges for stalking and harassment. It’s looking good.

I called Amber to tell her the news. She started crying on the phone. “It’s really over. It’s really over.” That night, Cameron and I celebrated. Not with champagne or fancy dinner. Just sitting on our couch watching a movie, being normal. “You did it,” Cameron said during a commercial break. “You stopped him. We did it.

All of us. Every woman who came forward. You know what the best part is?” Cameron asked. Dererick has to live with the fact that he lost. Not to me, not to some guy, but to all of you. You took your power back. He was right. The preliminary hearing was set for 2 months later. Right after our wedding, the prosecutor called me to go over my testimony.

She was a woman in her 40s named Victoria, and she’d been prosecuting domestic violence cases for 15 years. “I’ve seen a lot of cases like this,” Victoria told me. “But I’ve rarely seen this many victims willing to come forward.” “You should be proud. I’m just tired of being scared,” I said. “You won’t have to be scared anymore.” “Not after this.

” The wedding planning continued. “Cameron’s mom flew in early to help. She was exactly what I’d expected. Warm, funny, completely in love with her son. She took one look at me and pulled me into a hug. “Thank you for loving my boy,” she said. “He’s been through a lot. Lost his dad when he was 17.

Fighting helped him process that anger. But you, you made him happy. Really happy. I hadn’t known about Cameron’s dad. He’d mentioned his family, but not that. That night, I asked him about it. Car accident, Cameron said quietly. Drunk driver. My dad was coming home from work. Gone in an instant. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I don’t talk about it much, but it’s part of why I fight.

My dad always told me to stand up for people who couldn’t stand up for themselves. To use my size for good. Fighting lets me do that. And so do you. Me? Yeah. Standing up to Derek for you felt like honoring my dad. like I was finally big enough, strong enough to protect someone the way I couldn’t protect him.

We both cried that night. Two broken people who’d found each other and somehow made something whole. Yesterday, I was at Target, the same Target where this all started 3 years ago. I was in the cleaning supplies aisle and a guy around my age smiled at me. I smiled back and nothing bad happened. No threats, no fear, no Derek.

Just a normal moment, a smile between strangers. The kind of thing that happens every day for normal people. I bought my stuff and left. In the parking lot, I sat in my car for a minute and just breathed. really breathed free air, safe air. Then I drove home to the house I share with Cameron. The house where I’m allowed to exist without fear, where I can be myself, where I can smile at strangers and have male friends and live my life without constantly looking over my shoulder. Tonight, Cameron has a fight.

Nothing huge, just a local event. But I’ll be there front row wearing his shirt and screaming my lungs out because that’s what you do when you love someone. You show up, you support them, you stand beside them. And if anyone ever tries to threaten me again, tries to make me small, tries to make me afraid, well, they’ll have to get through Cameron first.

Not because I need him to protect me, but because he chooses to stand beside me. Because we choose each other every single day. The wedding is next week. We decided on a Saturday evening ceremony right at sunset. Jessica has been helping me with everything. She found my dress, a simple white gown that makes me feel beautiful without trying too hard.

You’re glowing, she said when I tried it on. I’ve never seen you this happy. She was right. I am happy. Really genuinely happy. Cameron hasn’t seen the dress yet. He’s being traditional about it, which made me laugh. You literally get punched in the face for a living, but you’re superstitious about seeing my dress. Some things you don’t mess with, he said seriously.

His brothers arrived yesterday. Jake and Ryan, both younger than Cameron, but still huge. They treat me like I’m already family, teasing Cameron mercilessly about going soft. He cried during a commercial yesterday, Jake told me. A commercial for insurance. It was about a dad teaching his daughter to ride a bike, Cameron defended. It was emotional.

I love seeing this side of him, the soft side that only comes out around people he trusts. My mom came in from Ohio, too. She and Cameron’s mom hit it off immediately, planning and plotting like they’d known each other for years. My mom pulled me aside yesterday morning. He’s good for you, she said. I can see it. You’re yourself again, my Madison.

The girl who used to laugh at everything and trust everyone. I’m better than I was, I said. Still working on it. We’re all always working on it. That’s life. The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow. Just close family and the wedding party. Cameron insisted on having it at the farmers market at the burrito stand where we had our first real conversation. The vendor was thrilled.

I remember you two, she said when we told her. Young love, the best kind. Tonight though is Cameron’s fight, his last fight before the wedding. He wanted to get it out of the way so he could focus on the wedding without worrying about training. I’m getting ready now, pulling on his team shirt and my lucky jeans.

Jessica is picking me up in 20 minutes. Marcus and David will be there, too, along with a bunch of people from the gym. Cameron left hours ago to warm up and prepare, but he texted me before he went into the locker room. See you soon. I love you. And after this, it’s just us and forever. Just us and forever.

I like the sound of that. Dererick took four years of my life. He took my confidence, my freedom, my ability to exist in public without fear. But he doesn’t get to take anything else. He doesn’t get to take my future. He doesn’t get to take my happiness. He doesn’t get to take my Cameron. I took those back.

We took those back. And I’m never giving them up again. The preliminary hearing is scheduled for 2 weeks after the wedding. All five of us are testifying. Me, Amber, Rachel, and two other women I haven’t met yet. Victoria says the case is strong. That Dererick will likely take a plea deal to avoid trial. He’s done. She told me yesterday.

Men like him only have power when their victims are isolated and scared. When you all stand together, he’s nothing. I believe her. Sometimes I think about what would have happened if my laptop hadn’t died that day. If I’d never walked into that repair shop, if I’d never met Cameron, I’d probably still be living in fear, still isolating myself, still letting Dererick control my life from a distance. But I did meet Cameron.

And he showed me that not all strong men use their strength to control. Some use it to protect. Some use it to create space for others to be free. That’s the difference between Derek and Cameron. Dererick made my world smaller. Cameron made it bigger. Dererick made me afraid of my own shadow.

Cameron taught me how to walk in the light again. Dererick punished anyone who looked at me. Cameron made sure I could look at anyone I wanted. Next week, I’m marrying the love of my life. I’m taking his last name, Chen. Madison Chen. It sounds good. Sounds like a fresh start. A new chapter. Jessica keeps joking that I should hire Cameron to stand at the wedding and glare at Derek in case he tries to show up uninvited.

But I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Derrick’s moved on to fighting his own battles. Legal battles. The kind you can’t punch your way out of. And me? I’m just living my life. Going to work. Planning a wedding. Supporting my fighter fiance. Smiling at strangers in Target. all the normal things that used to feel impossible.

But there’s one more thing I haven’t mentioned. Something that happened last week that changed everything. I was at Dr. Chen’s office for my regular session. We were talking about the wedding, about how excited I was when she asked me something that caught me off guard. What are you most afraid of? I thought about it. Really thought about it.

I’m afraid that I’ll wake up one day and realize this is all too good to be true. That Cameron will change. That I’ll end up back where I started. Do you really believe that? No. But the fear is still there. That’s normal. Dr. Chen said trust is built slowly. You’re relearning how to trust, and that takes time.

But Madison, I want you to consider something. What if you’re not afraid it’s too good to be true? What if you’re afraid you deserve to be this happy? That hit me hard. She was right. Part of me still believed I deserved what Dererick did to me. That I’d somehow earned it. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, Dr. Chen said as if reading my mind.

And you do deserve to be happy. Cameron knows that. Jessica knows that. Everyone in your life knows that. Now you just need to believe it yourself. I’m working on it. The fight tonight went well. Cameron won by decision. It wasn’t his cleanest fight, but he won. Afterward, we went out for burgers with the whole team. Next fight will be after the honeymoon, Cameron announced.

I’m taking a month off. No training, no fighting, just me and my wife. My wife. I’m going to be someone’s wife. Cameron’s wife. We’re honeymooning in Minnesota. Cameron wants to show me where he grew up. Introduce me to old friends, visit his dad’s grave. It feels important. Like closing one chapter and starting another tonight.

Lying in bed, Cameron turned to me and said, “I want you to know something. No matter what happens in the future, no matter what fights I win or lose, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You saved my life just as much as I saved yours. How did I save your life? I was angry, he said quietly. For years after my dad died, I was so angry.

Fighting helped, but it didn’t fix it. I was just channeling the anger, not processing it. Then I met you, and suddenly I had something to fight for that wasn’t just anger. I had love, and that changed everything. We fell asleep holding hands. Tomorrow is the rehearsal. Then the day after is the wedding, then the rest of our lives. I’m not going to end this by saying I’m grateful for what Derrick put me through.

I’m not going to say it made me stronger or taught me valuable lessons. That’s garbage. Abuse doesn’t make you stronger. It breaks you. and you have to work really hard to put yourself back together. What I will say is this. I’m grateful for Cameron for his size and his strength and his gentleness. For the way he faced down my worst nightmare and didn’t blink.

For the way he chose me every single day. For the way he gave me back my life. And I’m grateful for myself for not giving up. For not running away to Ohio. For taking that chance at the farmers market. For choosing to live instead of just survive. Dererick doesn’t get to be part of my story anymore. He’s a chapter that’s closed. Done. Over.

This is a new book now. And it’s a good one. The kind where the heroine doesn’t need rescuing but appreciates when someone strong chooses to stand beside her anyway. The kind where the scaryl looking fighter is actually the gentlest person she’s ever met. The kind where love doesn’t control you, it frees you.

The kind where you can smile at a stranger in Target and nothing bad happens. The kind where you win and I did win. We won. All of us who survived Derek. All of us who came forward. All of us who refused to stay silent. The wedding is in 6 days. I’ve got my dress. Cameron has his suit. The cake is ordered. The flowers are arranged. Everything is ready.

And for the first time in years, I’m not looking over my shoulder. I’m not waiting for something bad to happen. I’m not preparing for disaster. I’m just excited. Nervous and excited. And so completely in love with this life I’m building. With this man who saw me at my most broken and decided I was worth fighting for.

with this future that’s finally finally mine.