“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “What matters is you cheated on me!”
My chest tightened, anger and despair swirling inside me. “I didn’t cheat on you!” I shouted. “I was set up and I was tortured, Oliver!”
But he shook his head, his jaw tightening. “Stop lying, Hannah. I know the truth. Naomi told me everything.”
I let out a bitter laugh, disbelief turning into fury. “Naomi? Of course, it’s Naomi again. I should’ve known.”
“She wouldn’t lie to me,” Oliver said coldly. “She told me what happened because she was hurt. You cheated on me, and she thought I deserved to know.”
I was exhausted—exhausted from the lies, exhausted from his constant faith in Naomi over me. “You know what, Oliver?” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “Believe whatever you want. I’m done explaining myself to you.”
I turned to leave, but Oliver grabbed my arm, his grip tight and unforgiving. “No,” he said firmly. “You can’t leave me, Hannah.”
“Let me go!” I shouted, trying to pull away.
His face twisted with rage. Before I could process what was happening, his hand shot up, and he slapped me across the face. The force of it made me stumble backward, my cheek burning from the sting.