He throws it across the room like it’s nothing.
Like it means nothing. Something inside me breaks with it.
Then his hand is on mine, pinning it to the table, hard.
Pain shoots through my fingers as he grips my ring and twists it violently.
“Stop!”
I try to pull back, but I’m slower than I should be, my body not responding properly as I fight him.
“They don’t belong to you anymore,” he says, his voice sharp, almost shaking. “You don’t belong to them.”
“I’m not—”
The words don’t finish.
He forces the ring off anyway, dragging it over my knuckle hard enough that it hurts, the skin catching slightly before it slides free.
I gasp.
It’s gone.
Just like that.
“You belong to me.”
The words land like something rotten.
I pull my hand back the second he lets go, clutching it to my chest, my breathing uneven, my skin burning where he touched me.
The room feels too small.
Too tight. I don’t look at him. I can’t.
There’s a silence after that, heavy and suffocating, before it shifts again like nothing just happened.
“It’s time to sleep,” he says calmly.
“I’m not tired.”
“You are.”
I push myself up from the chair, but the moment I stand, the room tilts sharply, my vision blurring at the edges as my balance slips.
Something is wrong.
More wrong than before.
“You drugged me,” I say, my voice weaker than I want it to be.
He doesn’t deny it.
“You need rest.”
“I don’t—”
My legs don’t hold properly.
