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There are tears burning in my eyes, and I fight to stay standing.

“Stop fucking talking,” I scream at him. “I thought it was a video proving you cheated on me,” I continue, my voice still raised.

Throwing my hands up, I move closer to him.

“That’s what I understood from the message you got, and I already told you—your entire behavior during that period was so strange that I thought you were cheating on me.”

My voice breaks with sobs, and tears stream uncontrollably down my cheeks.

I wish I weren’t crying.

I wish I could stay composed, be strong.

But this hurts too much, and I can’t carry all of it inside me anymore.

I need to let it out.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” he demands, his voice serious. “Why didn’t you fucking confront me, Selene?”

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

Frustrated, he groans, throwing his head back.

“Because I didn’t want you finding out about things like that. I didn’t want you knowing anything about my sex life before you,” he explains, shaking his head. “Why does it matter what I did before I was with you, Selene? Why does any of it matter?”

“How would you have felt if you’d seen a video of me like that?” I ask, my voice trembling violently.

He inhales deeply and looks over my shoulder.

“I don’t even want to think about that,” he mutters, his jaw tightening.

“You don’t want to think about it,” I say bitterly, “but I saw you, Zayn. I saw you having sex with someone else.”

“Fucking hell,” he growls, turning his back to me. “And what do you want me to do, Selene? What exactly do you want from me?”

“What does it matter what I want?” I shoot back. “It’s obvious you didn’t care, and you still don’t.”

“Why the fuck do you keep saying that?”

“Because I saw everything you did during this entire time… with other women, while ignoring me.”

The sentence is barely out of my mouth when he turns around, grabs my waist, and pulls me flush against him.

One hand traps both of mine behind my back while the other keeps me firmly in place.

“I ignored you?” he repeats with an ironic laugh. “Was I supposed to try talking to you again? Chase after you? Try touching you again, only for you to reject me or look at me with disgust all over again?” he asks, staring directly into my eyes.

“How do you know?” I whisper, trying to pull free from his grip.

“How do I know what?”

“How do you know what I would’ve done?”

His eyes search mine, and I fight the fact that he’s this close to me, along with the way my body still responds to him so easily.

He smells so good it’s hard to focus on anything else.

“How do you know how I would’ve reacted if you never tried?” I add softly, barely above a whisper.