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I shook my head and stood up. I grabbed my suitcase and headed back to the house. Tristan stayed back, not returning to the house. I tossed my suitcase aside and slumped on the bed, ready to cry out all the pain.
I felt more insecure about the mark on my back now. He’d called it hideous. I closed my eyes and sobbed.
My clothes wereall over the floor when I woke up. I groaned and stayed back in bed, arguing with myself if I should leave the room. My stomach grumbled. I’d skipped dinner last night. Maybe he had eaten it all alone while I cried my eyes out. I stared at the ceiling, like it could tell me what to do.
I remained in bed and ignored Morris when he came to knock on my door. Tristan came next a few hours later, begging me to eat something. I didn’t answer anyone. I stayed locked up in the room the whole day.
Tristan showed up later in the night, apologizing again. I didn’t know how long he stood behind the door, talking, because I dozed off.
The next morning,Morris begged me to eat something he left at the door, but I was afraid it was a trap, set by Tristan. I got tired of crying, so I lay in bed, moping. His words had really cut through me. I had hidden the scar from everyone, except Vina and Grey. They’d never called it hideous. At least, not to my face. I had been scared to look at it, scared it would be as hideous as Tristan had called it.
I hated that I didn’t hate him as much as I wanted, but I planned on ignoring him for as long as I could.
I covered my head with the pillow when I heard Tristan’s voice again but removed the pillow when I heard another voice.
“Are you still alive? I swear I’m going to have his head on a spike and use it to decorate your grave.”
Vina!
I stood up and rushed to the door, unlocked it, and opened it.
“Jesus, Chlo, you scared me,” she said as I threw my arms around her.
I looked back at Tristan, who looked relieved to see me. He was still dressed for work. I glared at him and pulled Belvina into the room.
“Wow, you are living like a queen in here. This view is like the gate to paradise,” she said, looking outside the glass wall.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, sitting at the edge of the bed.
“His butler came to pick me up from campus. Morris, I think. He said you’d locked yourself in the room for two days and refused to let anyone in. Is that true?” She looked over her shoulder at me.
“Yeah.”
“What did thatel cabróndo? I knew he had done something from how desperate he sounded. Like you’d died.”
I was tempted to tell her everything about our deal and his mom but felt it wasn’t mine to share.
“We had a fight.”
“Did he hit you?” She looked pissed, as if her tiny size could take him down.
“No, it was an argument.”
“About what?” she asked, sitting next to me on the bed.
I didn’t want to talk about it. There was just too much personal stuff to share. Even if I shared every detail of my life with her, it wouldn’t feel right, telling her what had led to the fight.
“I forgot. So, how are you preparing for the finals?”
“What did he do, Chloe?”
“It’s nothing serious, Vee.”
“You locked yourself in here for two days, and the room looks like you wrestled with your clothes. Did he hit you? Be honest with me.”
“He didn’t, I swear.”
“Then, what did he do?”
