Adrian's OCD was severe. He never went anywhere without disinfectant wipes and alcohol. And more often than not, he used them on me. My hands, after years of scrubbing and constant exposure to alcohol, developed an allergy. They would itch, break out in rashes, and occasionally even peel.
My silence only made Adrian more annoyed.
His eyes narrowed when he saw my hands' fresh layer of peeled skin. "Emily, your hands are disgusting. Why don't you just wear gloves and cover them up?"
In the past, I would have argued with him, desperate to win his approval, to make him happy. But now, I couldn't even summon the energy to open my mouth. Without saying a word or looking back, I turned and walked away.
It was the first time I had ever walked away from Adrian like that, and it took him a second to process it.
"Crazy woman," he muttered under his breath as I left.
I didn't respond. I didn't even feel the need to explain. My heart, which was once shattered at every harsh word from him, now felt nothing at all.