He looks at me like I’m hiding something, though I’ve told him everything there is to tell. I’ve been honest, laying bare my past relationships, thinking it would help build trust. Instead, it backfired.

Every day feels like a trial, where I stand accused of crimes I didn’t commit. “Was he better than me?” he asks, his voice trembling. And it breaks my heart. How do I explain to him that I don’t even think about my exes, but his jealousy is making them haunt us?

It’s as though every man I’ve been with before is a shadow that looms over us, a phantom standing between me and the life I want to build with him. No matter how much I reassure him, his mind is stuck in comparison mode, tallying imaginary scores against men who no longer matter.

I love him, I really do. But this…this isn’t love. It’s something else—obsession, insecurity, maybe even fear. I want to pull him out of this darkness, but every time I try, he pulls away.

He scrolls through old photos, comparing his body to theirs, his smile to theirs. I’ve never asked for this. I don’t need perfection. I just need him. But it’s like he can’t believe that.

Is it cucked behavior? I don’t even know anymore. All I know is that this is a battle I never wanted to fight, but I’m in the middle of it. And the more he fights these ghosts, the more I lose him.