I stayed silent. But his tone grew colder, his words sharper. "I’ll be responsible for you, that’s all. Stop deluding yourself."
What a joke. The man could be aroused just by Loren’s voice, but I could strip naked in front of him and he’d recoil.
My nails dug into my palms to keep myself from exploding.
I grabbed his sleeve. "Do you even know what day it is today?"
I regretted it immediately.
"What now? Didn’t I tell you to stay out if there’s nothing urgent?" He pried my fingers off like I was some disgusting burden.
I felt the embarrassment crawl up my throat, but I forced a smile anyway. My eyes fell to the faint lipstick smudge on his collar—soft pink, definitely not mine. My mind flashed back to that photo: the tenderness in his eyes as he kissed Loren.
He never loved me. He married me because of a sense of duty. I knew that. But I didn’t expect that with time, duty would turn to contempt.
Even our son preferred Loren. Even he told me to get lost.
Loren—the eternal heroine of our shared life. She always had to win. She always did.
But it didn’t matter anymore.
Seven years. That’s all it was.