Greenwoods in October had a sharp chill that bit through the thin fabric of my gown, the wind prickling my bare shoulders. My feet were bare, the cold pavement stinging my skin and I barely noticed the sharp pebble that cut into my heel as I stumbled down the boutique's stone steps. I heard a few gasps from people nearby as I passed, their concerned glances doing little to break the ache inside me. Every footfall seemed to echo with the thoughts that Leon didn't care, he never did.
"Emily! What are you doing? Stop running!" Leon's voice cut through the noise of the street, his tone a mixture of exasperation and frustration.
For a second, I froze, heart pounding, a foolish hope rising that he might wrap me in his arms and assure me this was all a mistake. I turned to face him, only to see that annoyed scowl—the one he wore every time I'd asked for a little more attention, a little more of his time. And then he spoke, in the same tone he'd use when his favorite sports team lost a match.
"Emily, why are you always so reckless? Do you know how expensive that dress is? It cost me a month's salary. What if you ruin it?"