There was a time when he would panic if I so much as lingered in bed a little longer. He would fuss, insist on taking me for a full medical checkup, afraid I might be ill.
Now, he couldn't even see the bruises on my neck from being strangled. He couldn't see that I could barely stay conscious.
All he saw was Nadia's tears.
"Arabelle, don't blame me." His voice was eerily calm. "This is your punishment for your mistake. I hope you'll learn from it..."
He had already passed judgment—without hesitation, without verification.
The ambulance arrived swiftly, but I was not among the priorities. They took Nadia's mother away, Jonah by her side, holding her hand as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
I, however, was left behind, discarded in a corner like an afterthought. With the knife still lodged in my hand.
A kind stranger took me to the hospital, where I finally regained consciousness hours later. The first thing I did was report the incident to the police.
Jonah stormed into my hospital room not long after, his face dark with fury. "Arabelle, what the hell are you doing?"