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Thanks to a madman crawling through her window and endangering her child, Rin has finally agreed to marry her one true love, who also happens to be the father of said child. It's a bad situation, and she knows that only marriage can redeem it, but there are…reasons, why she's reluctant to take the plunge she's always dreamed of. Some of it has nothing to do with Sojiro, but some of it does. He supposes she doesn't understand things simply because she doesn't speak of them, although he is also taciturn about important matters.
Preparing for marriage when one has a history of PTSD and one is a little bit afraid of one's fiance can cause unexpected results, such as nightmares. Nightmares have plagued Rin for years, and she is ashamed that the cast of characters populating them includes a harmless barista and not a former yakuza member. But that's her fault, and if she felt able to tell Sojiro about the dreams she has, she would tell him that it's her fault her mind has made a horror puppet out of his image. Most of it has nothing to do with him truly, it's just she's never been so close to anyone before, and now there's this fragile being to protect who isn't herself. Another weak girl at the mercy of the world.
And marriage is for life, at least the type of marriage she has planned. The type that means Sojiro will be her exclusive property, his body, his love…and vice versa. And vice versa. You can't get without giving, a lesson she learnt very young. She's already given herself to him, but not totally and not for as long as she shall live. To marry will be to voluntarily wear a chain. Prison is the most frightening thing imaginable for the greatest phantom thief of all.
She goes to sleep, and ‘wakes’ with hands, frightfully strong male hands, wrapped around her throat, their thumbs pressing into her arteries. Sojiro, he's found out about any of the many secrets she keeps from him. Secrets that she imagines he would hate her for. The great weight on top of her prevents her from getting up, and neither can she pull the hands off or hurt their owner because he leans away from her scrabbling attempts, his face a blur. Air stops coming, she can't even gasp, and blackness encroaches. There is nothing to do but die. And when her dream self dies, she is thrown into consciousness, thrown upright, scratching at her neck, where no hands abuse her. The horror and terror is still so real that she checks a mirror for the tell tale red marks. But there are none except those she inflicted.
The real Sojiro would never do such a thing. But how well does she really know him? You can never truly know what might set a person off, that's the thing. You can never truly know, you can never truly be safe.