Page 14 of Between Love & Ruin

It always baffles me that romance as a whole stands to be the highest-selling genre, yet people ridicule it as being the least important one. They have reduced it to women having unrealistic standards and it being filled with stuff equal to porn, but it is not even close to that.

It pisses me off even more when people in my circle look at me with a different gaze when they realize I write romance for a living. First they assume it isn’t a stable career. Second, they assume I write straight porn for a living.

Even if I did, I don’t see the point of making it a big deal when people publicly admit to watching it.

It is so much more than just that, and I truly believe that people learn so much from books. Romance books teach empathy. They explore grief, longing, human connection, and emotional resilience. They are so much more than just sex or unrealistic ideals—and if anyone ever tries to talk down on romance in front of me, I genuinely get ready to throw hands.

I usually don’t argue, nor do I get violent, but talk shit about love and romance in front of me, and I get ready to throw hands.

I shake my head as I scroll on my Instagram, pushing those thoughts aside, and ever since I have seen those few reels of Dominic sent by Laura, all that my explore page has become is him. Him and his thirst traps and the way the media talks of him, and I can’t help but keep scrolling.

It’s like scrolling through fan edits of books.

I crane my neck on the back of the couch and stretch when a looming figure shadows my phone screen, and I let out a shriek.

Mark crowds over me from behind, and I shut my phone off and put a hand to my chest.

When did he even come in?

“You scared me,” I tell him as he comes to sit down by my side.

“Who was he?” he asks, dodging my question, and I furrow my brows.

“He who?”

“The one on your phone,” he says, his voice stern, and I wonder what’s gotten into him.

“A guy named Dominic Wolfe. He blew up my book by just carrying it with him, and now my whole page is filled with his videos.”

“Isn’t he the one who owns Wolfe Media?” he says with an edge to his voice. “He is rich.”

“I mean, yes,” I shrug. “Anyways, why were you peeking in my phone?”

“It was a random look. Do you have any problem with that?”

“No, but you are acting weird,” I say even though what I want to say is that he is acting creepily, but I don’t say that. Of course.

He sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“I don’t like it when you idolize other men.”

“I wasn’t idolizing. Just scrolling. You know I am loyal to you.”

I say that to him and myself because apparently there’s a need to repeat that to the both of us.

Even though it is evident.

He gives me a half smile, and it doesn’t quite reach me, but I still smile in return.

What’s wrong with me?

“I don’t like sharing you, Sienna. You know that too, right?”

I smile and nod, and he relaxes in his position.

But for the first time, the words that would have made any girl, including me, happy felt like a cage.

Now, I am pretty sure there’s something wrong with me.