When I didn’t respond, his tone softened, almost pleading. "Emma, please. Don’t make a scene. After the wedding, you can do whatever you want, alright?"
Before I could respond, Ava chimed in with that soft, fragile voice of hers, always playing the victim.
"Emma, Jason was just in a hurry. Don’t blame him. Is your arm okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
Her fake, innocent act made my stomach turn. I shot her a disgusted look and swatted Jason’s hand away.
"Don’t touch me! You’re disgusting!" I spat.
I stumbled out of the restaurant, my stomach churning with every step. Behind me, Jason’s anxious voice called out, but I couldn’t stop. I just needed to get away from this suffocating scene.
My high heels twisted, and I almost lost my balance, barely managing to steady myself against the wall.
The burning pain in my arm flared up, like a thousand ants gnawing at my skin. I heard Jason’s footsteps getting closer, panic rising in my chest, and I pushed myself to walk faster.
But then, suddenly, the footsteps stopped. I turned around, heart hammering in my chest, and saw Jason holding Ava up, a worried expression on his face.