The audacity of a woman who knowingly got involved with someone else’s boyfriend, only to turn around and tell me—the actual girlfriend—that I’m being unreasonable? This was beyond ridiculous.
Wilbur shoved her hand away and scrambled toward me, his movements clumsy and frantic. He reached for my shoulder, the very same one that had just taken the brunt of my fall.
“Naomi, are you hurt? I’m so sorry… I should have protected you,” he said, his voice filled with guilt.
But I jerked away before his fingers could touch me. My bloodshot eyes locked onto his as I gritted out, “Don’t touch me with the same hands you just used on her.”
His face paled.
Ignoring it, I threw him one last, cold look and said with finality, “I never want to see you again.”
Then, without another word, I turned and walked away.
The moment I stepped outside the villa, I hesitated—just for a second. I had a gut feeling he would follow me, and sure enough when I glanced back, he was right there, trailing after me.
Fearing I might waver, I quickened my pace, climbed into my car, and slammed the door shut.
Right then, my phone rang. It was the hospital.