For existing.
For being the chain around his neck.
For being the reason, he had to give up everything he thought he wanted.
He hated her innocence.
Hated those warm brown eyes that looked at him as though he hung the moon.
Hated how modest she was.
How quiet.
How pure.
How she loved him with a devotion he had never asked for.
Maybe he had been her world.
But to him, she had been nothing. Less than nothing.
The memory made nausea rise violently in his throat. They got married. And on that day… he had sworn he would never see her as his wife. Never touch her. Never love her. Never…
A sharp pain exploded in his chest. Rafael’s breathing became uneven. His hands trembled.
Divorce papers flying across the room.
Amara’s horrified gasp.
Blood.
Her screams.
Stop! Please!
His hand jerked.
The spoon clattered loudly onto the plate.
Please don’t leave me!
Rafael’s entire body went rigid.
It hurts!
His breathing turned ragged.
“Rafael?”
Someone was talking to him.
Someone touched his wrist.
He blinked, struggling to focus. Her worried face swam before him.
“You don’t look well,” she whispered. “Should I call the doctor?”
“No…” He shoved his chair back so abruptly it scraped violently against marble.
