Hearing my words, he suddenly kicked the drawer shut, sending boxes scattering across the floor.
“No need! We won’t use anything tonight!”
Even as he barked, my expression remained tranquil—unshaken.
Cursing under his breath, Owen turned, locked the bedroom door behind him, and stormed into the bathroom.
I didn’t know what he was angry about.
Scenes like this had played out countless times over the past eight years.
The sound of the bathroom door slamming echoed through the room.
But moments later, it opened again.
He came back with handcuffs and shackled me to the doorframe.
This time, he didn’t look back.
Soon, the sound of rushing water filled the air.
Julia’s voice rang out, laced with embarrassment and disbelief.
“Mr. Carter, Ms. Sheryl is still outside. This isn’t—”
Before she could finish, whatever protest she had was swallowed by him.
Her bathrobe landed in a heap outside the door.
Owen had left the bathroom door wide open on purpose.
Through the foggy glass, their silhouettes moved together in a rhythm I’d long since grown numb to.
From shame... to grief... to nothingness.
The thunder outside the window rumbled.
Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows.