I might hate him with every fiber of my being, but I also love him with every fractured heartstring.
To torture his ass for an eternity sounds too appealing. I smile, imagining that when a message from my therapist pops up on my phone.
I ignore it, even though I need to see her and unravel my past some more. Like a madwoman, I realized he was the mystery man, then stormed out and went straight to him with every intention of killing him.
It was that damn house that finally did it.
The home we never got to live in.
The future he planned for us, but burned down.
His fault, yet I should at least have listened. Listened to his side of the story. I didn’t believe myself impulsive, but with him, I discovered plenty of new things about myself. I reacted on impulse, and it cost me everything.
He had so many chances. I would have believed him, just as I ignored all the clues pointing at him.
“Zara,” Conrad knocks.
“Traitor. You fucking traitor. You should pack your stuff because when I get out, I will kill you next.”
“Fine,” he says matter-of-factly and turns the handle, but it doesn’t give. “But open the door.”
“At your own risk,” I bite, yanking the door open.
Dizziness hits me, and I brace against the doorframe, his eyes widening with obvious concern. I must look like shit, but I couldn’t care less. My vision blurs, seeing double. I stumble back, and he catches me, gently lowering me down. We craminto the small bathroom, the stench of puke and sorrow lingering heavy in the air.
I fold myself into the corner, turning into a little girl who needs her daddy. The father that the love of my life killed.
How can this be my life?
Using the last reserves of my strength, I stare him down and say through gritted teeth, “You should leave. I’m not kidding.”
“Fine, fucking kill me. I’m still going to stay here and make sure you’re okay.”
“As if I could ever be okay again…”
He’s staying at his own risk, but I lack the energy to deal with the man I thought had my back, the man I believed was loyal to me.
“You’ve worked for him all along.” I push the words out through my sore throat.
He stretches his arms, revealing his open palms. “No, I’ve worked for you all along. But yes, especially since it aligned with my purpose of watching over you and having your best interests at heart.”
“Sure,” I grumble. “I shot him. He’s dying.”
I burst into ugly sobs, and he crawls to me, attempting to comfort me, but another man coming near me while I grieve my husband sickens me. I bend over the toilet, throwing up my guts until there’s nothing left in my stomach but misery.
“Zara… let me help you. Please.”
I shake my head with such force that I might dislocate it. “No.”
“I’ll force you,” he says low.
“You really want to die? Leave me alone,” I shout, curling into the fetal position.
He shakes his head, helplessness blanketing his facial features. “The asshole would come back from the dead if he saw you like this.”
A small smile parts my lips. “I wanted to kill him.” I just didn’t want him to die.
“Who knows?” he asks, in business mode.
