When leaving is the beginning of the worst part

Every escape narrative I had absorbed ended the same way: she left, and then she was free. I believed that. I planned around it.

What actually happened is that leaving removed the only thing keeping her attention regulated, and the obsession went looking for new terrain. My job. My family. My reputation. Anyone who would take a phone call.

There is no clean word for this in ordinary conversation, which is part of why it works. You sound unhinged describing it. The person doing it sounds calm. Calm is very persuasive.

What helped, eventually, was documentation. Not because anyone demanded proof, but because writing it down was the first time the story held still long enough for me to see its shape.

That documentation became the book.