This Sweet Surrender, Ep. 3
Rating: š„ | Tears pricked at her eyes. All this time, sheād been so careful, building her walls higher and higher, and heād seen right through them anyway. God, she felt stupid.
This Sweet Surrender
Copyright Ā© 2025 Linn Rhinehart - All rights reserved
NSFW: Content warnings
Quick Recap: The morning after their first date, Gianna woke to a flare making even the smallest movement painful and exhausting. But that wasnāt all. She also had a few messages from Joe wating for her. She pushed through the pain and their conversation soon edged into vulnerability and trust. Gianna began to tell him just how much sheād been hiding behind the screen and reflected on how a bond that began with a simple tech support chat had grown into something so important. The chapter closed as Joe finally asked the dreaded question and Gee realised she had to tell him the whole truth.
Episode Three
She could lie again. Make up another excuse. She could tell him sheād been seeing someone else. Tell him she was really insecure about her weight. Invent some ex-boyfriend trauma, perhaps? Or she could tell him the truth. She did owe him that much after all the joy he had brought to her life, didnāt she? But knowing it was the right thing to do and actually doing it were two very different things.
Giannaās fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment before she typed:
I was afraid.
Joe:
Of me?
She sighed and steeled herself.
Of losing you.
Joe:
I need you to explain. How would meeting me make you lose me?
Giannaās chest tightened with anxiety.
Because there are things about me you donāt know. Things that change how people see me. Change how they see themselves in my life. In my future. I couldnāt bear it if that happened with you.
Joe:
Try me.
It was just like Joe to ask for everything in two simple words. She pushed her laptop aside and cradled her phone in both hands, as if she needed the extra support to handle this.
I have a chronic illness called ME, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, and a long list of so-called comorbidities. Some people call it chronic fatigue syndrome, but thatās a terrible misnomer because itās so much more than just being tired.
Send. She felt sick to her stomach as she watched the screen, waiting for his response. When none came immediately, she continued, the words pouring out now that sheād started:
Some days Iām almost like a normie. Some days I canāt get out of bed. I never know which kind of day itās going to be, or if itās going to be a full day. This condition is about as reliable as the English weather. I have pain, brain fog, dizziness. Most days I have to use my walking sticks to get around. On bad days, or when I need to do something extra strenuous like go buy milk, I have to use a wheelchair.
She paused, thought about it, and added the hardest truth:
Yesterday took everything out of me and today Iām paying the piper. Thatās how this works. Everything I do, every single activity, no matter how small, comes at a cost. Even talking to you right now is using up spoons I donāt really have.
The infuriating three dots appeared and disappeared again...
Joe:
I know.
She blinked at the screen. That was not what she had expected.
What do you mean, you know?
Joe:
I knew from the start that you had some kind of disability or health condition. It was something someone mentioned before we installed the system. Our communication confirmed it.
There are patterns in how you respond. Iāve noticed when your texts are shorter or come later. You're always ābusyā on weekends but you never have any specific plans. You never want to talk in the mornings.
Her mind reeled. Had she been so transparent? Or was he simply that observant?
Why didn't you say anything?
Joe:
Because I figured youād tell me when you were ready.
Tears pricked at her eyes. All this time, sheād been so careful, building her walls higher and higher, and heād seen right through them anyway. God, she felt stupid.
And you still wanted to meet me? Even though you knew?
Joe:
Iāve told you so many times. If you want a juicy tomato, you plant the best seed you can find. I want you, and I think you want me too. Everything else is just noise. Things weāll figure out together.
We know who we are to each other. What we donāt know is whether weāll feel the same bond when weāre in the same room day and night.
But weāre great friends, Gianna.
We feel love for each other, donāt we?
So, maybe after two weeks youāll decide I snore too loud, or put cups in the wrong place. Youāll tell me it wonāt work for you. Weāll still be friends. Right?
Feeling love for each other? He felt love for her? Words sheād both longed to hear and dreaded. Because love came with expectations, whether people meant it to or not. And love meant a degree of raw vulnerability she wasnāt sure she could handle.
You say that, but Iām messier than your system. Complicated. Unpredictable. Hard work. Too bloody Italian even after two decades in this country. Iām in my PJs today, too washed out to go to work.
Joe:
Do you think I care about that?
Oh, Joeā¦ She rolled her eyes. She couldnāt help it.
Everyone cares eventually. Itās too much to ask of someone. Anyone.
There was a long pause before his next message appeared:
Joe:
Let me be clear about something. I donāt want a relationship where we go mountain climbing on weekends or run marathons together. I donāt need someone who can dance all night or travel the world without rest.
I want YOU. The woman who makes me laugh every day. Who challenges my ideas and tells me Iām wrong. Who sees the world in ways I never considered. Who tells me to bugger off when sheās annoyed with me.
I understand that you live in a body that creates a lot of challenges for you. But YOU are not your body. Your body is not you. Itās just the packaging you come in.
A sob escaped her throat then. How long had she waited for someone to say words to that effect? How many relationships had ended before they even started because the reality of her condition became too inconvenient the minute one of these āchallengesā popped up? Before she could think of something to say, a fourth message arrived.
Joe:
I have my own confession to make.
Right. Of course he had. She should have known it was too good to be trueā¦
I knew it! Youāre married?
Joe:
LOL No. No wife, no kids, no crazy ex in the closet. Iām surprised you never asked.
My secret is a lie. A white one, but still a lie. I donāt work in tech support. I never have. EllEmEss is my company. The system you hate so much is mine. I wrote it.
She nearly dropped the phone. He owned the entire company? The company that made the learning management system that was used by colleges and universities across the UK?
Youāre the DIRECTOR of EllEmEss?
Joe:
Founder, director, majority shareholder. Thatās how I can work from anywhere. Why I have the office you saw yesterday. Why I could assure you my boss wasnāt suspicious of our chat time.
The pieces suddenly fit together. His expensive suit. The luxury apartment. The confidence with which heād navigated their evening. Her sisters had noticed, but Gianna had been too nervous to take anything in.
Why didnāt you tell me?
Joe:
For the same reason you never told me about the ME. I wanted to be Joe to someone. Not a company or a bank account.
The parallel wasnāt lost on her. Both of them hiding crucial parts of themselves, wanting to be accepted for who they were beyond their circumstances. A small smile formed as she typed:
So weāre both filthy liars. š¤
Joe:
I prefer to think of it as both of us saving the full picture for when the time was right.
She laughed out loud. A genuine laugh that momentarily pushed the fog and fatigue to the side.
Calling my disability āthe best of meā is definitely a first.
Joe:
Not the disability. Your trust in telling me about it, babes. Thatās what matters.
She leaned back in her chair, eyes closed, letting his words sink in. The fear that had gripped her for so long began to loosen its hold. It wasnāt letting go, it was far too early for that, but she felt like a fraction of it had been replaced by something dangerously close to hope.
So where does this leave us, Joe?
Joe:
Exactly where we were before. Three weeks until I see you. Two weeks together after that. But we can stop pretending now.
Was he always Mr Iām not taking no for an answer? She kind of knew he was, but even soā¦
You still want to come? Even if we canāt do everything you wanted to do?
Joe:
Especially now. In fact, I have some new plans I think youāll like better.
Oh, merda! She smiled, almost afraid to ask.
What kind of plans?
Joe:
Plans based on what you need. Rest. Care. Support. And perhaps, if youāre up for it, a kind of surrender youāre not used to.
There was that word again. Surrender. The hint of something beyond the conventional that had flickered between them yesterday. It had been present in his commanding texts last night too. And maybe long before that.
I donāt understand.
But deep down she did, and something in her resonated with that understanding.
Joe:
Youāre always fighting. All day long you fight your body, fight for control, fight the system at work. What if, with me, you could let go of that? What if you could give up the control youāre so desperately clinging to and let me take care of you?
Her breath caught.
You want me to be... submissive?
Joe:
I would like to teach you how to trust. How to surrender and let someone else carry the burden for a while.
The idea was absolutely terrifying and somehow irresistibly appealing.
I don't know if I can do that. Iāve been on my own since I was 17 and in many ways I was all alone long before that too. Making all decisions for myself. Calculating the cost of every action.
Joe:
And thatās why I want to give it to you. But weāll go slowly. We wonāt do anything without your consent.
And nothing that causes pain that doesnāt also bring pleasure. š
Her cheeks flushed and heat bloomed in her core at his words. The response was so visceral it surprised her. In all the ways she had imagined a potential relationship with Joe, this was a dimension that never even occurred to her.
Iāve never done anything like that before. I donāt know if I am that kind of woman.
Joe:
I know you havenāt, but you are. You have told and showed me in so many ways. Weāll learn together. Figure out what works for you. For your body. For your needs. But first we need complete honesty between us. No more hiding. No more lies.
Tell me what a bad day really looks like for you.
Gianna bit her lip, hesitating for a while before she responded:
Today is not the worst, but itās a really bad day. I managed a quick shower, but it took hours to get there and I had to sit down to do it. Iām in my PJs because clothes are too uncomfortable. Iām using a walking stick to get around.
My brain feels like itās wrapped in cotton wool. Every piece of me is aching. I have work to do, but Iāll probably have to lie down in an hour or so.
Well, now she had really jumped into the deep end. Exposing the reality of her illness to the man sheād spent three years trying to impress made her feel more vulnerable than sheād ever been.
Joe:
Thank you for telling me the truth. Now I want you to do something for me.
Was he serious?
What?
Joe:
Go lie down. Donāt wait until youāre shattered. Your work can wait. Iām sending you something later and I want you to be comfortable when it arrives.
He was gentle but firm. It wasnāt a suggestion.
What are you sending?
Joe:
Youāll see. Now go to bed, baby girl. Iāll know if you donāt.
There it was again, that tone that made her insides quiver with an unfamiliar, but not altogether unwelcome feeling. She found herself standing before sheād consciously decided to obey.
Yes, sir.
She grinned as she pressed send. The words had come naturally this time.
Making her way to the bedroom took effort, but she had to admit it was easier to follow his instruction than to give in to her symptoms. It was a small shift in perspective that made a huge difference.
Another message arrived as she settled onto the bed, arranging the pillows to support her aching limbs.
Joe:
Good girl. You rest now. I'll be here when you wake up.
Gianna set the phone on her bedside table and closed her eyes with a small smile on her lips. Youāre a dangerous man, Joe Lawrence, she thought to herself. And he was. He made her feel seen. Truly seen. It still filled her with fear, but something had shifted today. A foundation had been laid for whatever came next. Three weeks, she thought. Three weeks full of unknowns and potential disappointments.
As she drifted off to sleep, a single thought circled in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldnāt have to choose between keeping Joe in her phone and having him in her life.
Maybe she could have bothā¦
[Last updated: 17 May, 2025]
Hi, Linn here. This story touches on something deep. If youāve ever wrestled invisible illnesses and hidden desires, youāre not alone.
Wanna talk about it? Message me or drop an email to linn@aswewrite.com
Gianna and Joeās story continues next week. Subscribe or upgrade to get the next chapter straight to your inbox. And if youāre already swooning, consider telling your favourite bookish spoonie about it.
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