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BROKEN
Istared blankly at what I had done, and to be honest, I wasn’t satisfied. I heard running footsteps.
“Well, that was quick.” I grinned when Tristan appeared.
His honey-blond hair was tousled at the top, and a few strands fell over his forehead. He was still in his wedding suit, but the jacket was gone. His white button-up was still creased sharply and tucked into his pants. A fair guy with a lovely shade of black hair stood behind him; that must be the friend he had been out with.
He was slightly taller than Tristan and lean with just the right amount of muscle. His dark hair contrasted with his warm gray eyes. He reminded me of a male model I’d once had a crush on. He had a face I’d seen on a magazine cover with a casual outfit on and way too many rings on his fingers. But they suited him so well.
“Shit! She is really pissed,” his friend said, folding his arms with an amused smile.
Tristan looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His lips parted slowly and then closed back, like he didn’t know what to say. Running his hand down his face, he growled slightly. His eyes darted to my direction.
“What did you do?”
Was he blind?
“Oh, my bad. I’m just having a pregnancy tantrum right now. I’m carrying your child, remember?” My eyes held his in an intense stare.
He sighed and turned away from me, mumbling incoherent words to himself as he stared up at the ceiling.
“I asked for a few hours. I will fix this,” he said, facing me. His eyes kept darting to the damaged paintings, and his fist clenched.
“Well, I was fuming in rage when I got here, and I needed to cool off. I came across these ugly paintings and the awards.” I faked a smile.
“Ugly?” He cocked a neat eyebrow at me, staring like I was too dumb to differentiate between beans and pebbles.
“Do you know how valuable each of those paintings were?” His forehead creased, and his nostrils flared as he stared down at me.
I stood up and took slow steps toward him. I stepped on something, but I kept moving. “Valuable?” I laughed. I was on the verge of exploding.
I felt something pierce my foot, but I ignored it, moving closer.
“Are you comparing my life to that piece of crap?” I didn’t want to feel intimidated by his height, so I maintained a safe distance between us.
His face grew stern at my words, distinct veins appearing on his neck. I was satisfied, yet still, it wasn’t enough.
“You were the one who went overboard, Tristan. You took your lie too far!” Wow, all this yelling was making my head hurt.
“I will fix this, Chloe. Just give me some time,” he grunted, fingers massaging his brows as he hissed again.
“You destroyed my life, and you’re getting mad over some lame paintings and awards?”
His jaw hardened at my words. Man, it curved sharp.
“I want my life back. You have to fix this!”
He was quiet, but he stared at me like his mind was spinning with different ways to murder me.
Too bad, honey. I thought of that first.
“I don’t care about your reasons. I am not interested. I want my family back. I want my boyfriend back! You have to tell them the truth.” My voice escalated until I screamed. I was trying desperately not to do anything rash because just staring at him filled my head with murderous intent. I have never felt so much hate for someone.
“I can’t. Not now,” he said calmly, regaining his composure.
“Then, you leave me no choice.” I didn’t care about his height anymore. I stepped closer.
My grip on the glass shard tightened, bringing it closer to his chest. His friend took a step closer, and I shot him a glare. Tristan signaled for him to stay back.
