The wound on my palm had barely healed and now it split open beneath my nails. Warm blood seeped into the sand, blooming red against the pale grains.
I swallowed the storm rising in my chest, forcing my voice to stay steady.
After a long, heavy silence, I simply nodded.
I should have walked away from this relationship long ago.
And yet, in that moment, I felt an odd, fleeting gratitude toward him—gratitude for his cruelty. Because it forced me to wake up faster than I ever could have on my own.
Once the camera equipment was in place, I shot in three different styles.
With every click of the shutter, Rhea’s smile thinned.
"Starlene, are you doing this on purpose? Trying to get back at me?"
"What’s the difference between these dull shots and any other wedding photos?"
"Don’t play innocent. I saw the wedding photos in your room—the ones you took with someone else. That’s the style I want."
She was talking about the sample shots I had taken with Justin back then. In the final edits, I had erased his face for artistic effect.
His gaze swept over me, calm and cold, his tone carrying an unshakable certainty.