To drive her point home, she reached up and tore away the last scrap of fabric covering her, baring skin that was pale and smooth—except for the marks. Bite marks. Bruises. Left by another man's hands and mouth.
I didn't feel a shred of desire. I felt sick.
"Ugh—"
I bolted to the bathroom and hunched over the toilet, retching for what felt like an eternity.
My body shook uncontrollably with fury. Only then did I truly understand just how shameless and reckless a spoiled wife could become.
When I finally came back out, Valerie had already changed her clothes. She stood by the door with a packed suitcase.
"Nathaniel, I don't want to fight. Let's just take some time apart to cool off."
She didn't wait for me to respond. She shoved the door open, walked out, and slammed it behind her—all in one fluid motion.
I pulled out a cigarette and stepped onto the balcony. I'd barely lit it and taken the first drag when I looked down and saw Valerie sprinting toward Morris at full speed.
They clung to each other like they wanted to melt into one person.
So much for "cooling off." It was just an excuse to spend the night at Morris's place.