Who had groaned my name against my skin like it mattered.
Who had held me after—his forehead pressed to mine.
Breathing unsteady.
Like I was something more than just a pawn in whatever game he was playing.
And now—he was ready to destroy me.
To mutilate me.
Because another woman had pointed at me.
My knees gave out.
I didn’t fight it. Didn’t catch myself.
Just slid down the wall until I hit the floor.
The carpet pressed against my back as I sank into it, hoodie pooling around me, arms wrapping instinctively around my middle like I could hold myself together through sheer force alone.
Disappointment tasted like copper in my mouth.
Disappointment in the man I had allowed myself to see differently.
In the version of him I had let myself believe in—if only for a moment.
My chest tightened.
Last night returned to me in fragments.
The way I had climbed onto him. How I had taken the first step.
How I had let him in. Let him take what he wanted. Let him be my first.
I told myself it didn’t matter—that it was just bodies, just need.
Just a husband and wife finally consummating a dry marriage.
Now... shame coils through me.
I shouldn’t have.
I regret it.
I should have slept like I always did these past eight months.
Because the man who buried himself inside me last night—the man who whispered how good I smelled, kissed me like obsession incarnate—is now the same man threatening to steal my ability to conceive.
All because of his mistress’s pathetic lies.
I pressed my forehead against my knees.
Tight.
Breathing uneven.
My teeth sank into the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.
