His gaze sweeps over me slowly. “You’re already angry with me,” he murmurs.
“I never fucking stopped,” I snap, spine straightening.
Focus on the burn, Adora. You got this.
I grip the papers tighter, feeling the edges press against my fingers. His eyes flick down, land on them, and I swear, something shifts in the room. In him. The light bends. His face hardens.
I close the distance and shove them into his chest. He catches them one-handed, not taking his eyes off mine.
“Divorce papers,” I say, my tone as crisp as morning air. “Sign them. You’ve got three days.”
“We already talked about—” he starts, voice tight.
“No,” I cut in. “You talked. I didn’t agree to shit.” I lean forward, fury pulsing under my skin. “I remember exactly what you said, Ghost. It was this morning, not last year. My memory’s not the problem here.”
Shit. My thoughts start spiraling, unraveling fast.Tequila burn,I scream inwardly.Focus.I suck in a breath, brace against the chaos swirling between my ribs.Focus. Focus.
“I’m already being generous giving you three days,” I grit out, arms crossing over my chest like a shield. “That’s all you get. Three. Days.”
“I need more time,” he says, the words low and stretched thin. Like he’s holding something back. Like he’s two seconds from cracking.
“I don’t care,” I snap, giving him my best glare. “I’ve had those papers ready for months. I waited long enough. And this little song and dance you’re doing now? This delay? It’s just another way of hurting me.”
“I told you, Adora,” he murmurs. “I’m not trying to hurt you—”
“Then sign the fucking papers!” My voice bounces off the walls, ragged and loud. Desperate.
“You keep saying that like it matters. Like it means something. It doesn’t. Not after everything you did, not after the venom you spit in my face. Not after you set a goddamn trap and watched me walk right into it with a smile on your lips.”
I fold my arms tighter. My voice drops. “You’re a master manipulator, Ghost. A liar. You twisted everything, and I’ll never trust you again. Not with needing time to sign, not with anything.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. This outburst wasn’t part of the plan. This was supposed to be just about the divorce. A clean break. Cold, professional. But now it’s bleeding everywhere.
“You’re right,” he breathes. “I did set a trap, and I walked into it, too. I acted like a monster because of my own fucked-up shit. That’s on me. Not you—”
“I know it’s not on me!” I hiss, pressing my nails into my skin. “Your actions are not my responsibility.”
A breath gets snagged in my throat but I push through it. “I don’t care how broken you were. How twisted your head was.”
My voice shatters. “I didn’t deserve what you did to me.”
The tears come like a flood. Hot and ugly, impossible to stop.
“I deserved to be loved. Really loved. Not discarded and lied to. Not humiliated.” A sob rips out of me. “I’m not toxic,” I whisper, and it nearly breaks me.
“No, you’re not,” he says, voice hoarse and gutted. Full of grief. “You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.” His eyes shine, drowning in regret. “And you deserve love, Adora. All of it. And I did love you. Idolove you.”
He takes a step toward me.
“Don’t.” I lift my hand, stopping him cold. “Don’t you dare touch me. Not again.” My voice shakes. “I hate it when you touch me.”
It’s a lie. God, it’s such a lie. But I have to. Because it hurts just to look at him, but it also doesn’t. And my skin still remembers his hands. Still burns for them. But I can't afford to feel that. Not now.
His eyes dim. That dead glaze from before comes back like a curtain pulled shut. Thick. Unbreakable. He steps back and leans against the table again.
I start pacing, jaw clenched, heart split wide open. I wasn’t ready for this. But who am I kidding? I never would’ve been. Whether now or ten years from now, this conversation would’ve still left me in pieces.
“What would help you?” His voice is soft. Barely there.
