Breaking point

"Bye, Ryan," Laura waved at me.

Was she mocking me?

I felt ashamed of myself. I drove, following them. All the way home.

By the time we got home, I was boiling. I wanted to scream. I wanted to say how I really felt.

I walked up to Leo and his dad in the parlor. I stood in front of Ethan with my hand on my waist.

He noticed trouble and told Leo to go upstairs and do his homework.

Then he lifted an eyebrow like, "What's wrong?"

I was physically shaking, tears running down my cheeks.

"Seriously? You're asking me what's wrong? Of course everything is wrong. With you, with this house, with our marriage. You barely look at me. You barely touch me."

I was choking on my own tears. I turned back, folding my hands to get a grip of myself.

Ethan just sat down, looking at me.

Maybe... emotionless.

He sighed. Long. Like I was stressing him.

"Ryan, what are you doing?"

He leaned back on the couch.

"You are embarrassing yourself. In front of our son. Again."

"Laura brought ice cream. So what? Are you going to cry about ice cream now?"

He stood up, hands in his pockets.

"You think everyone is against you. You think Laura was mocking you?

He walked past me.

"You should look at yourself. You are shaking over nothing.

"No... I want to talk about it now!"

My voice cracked.

"I saw the way you were flirting with Laura."

I swallowed hard, trying not to choke on the words.

Ethan scoffed.

He was practically screaming now, coming closer to me.

"Would you blame me??? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

He looked me up and down.

"Look at your eye bags, Ryan."

That look — downgrading. Like I disgusted him.

Then he picked his phone and went upstairs.

I just stood there. In our parlor.

The same parlor where he proposed.

My eye bags.

I touched my face without thinking. When was the last time I slept through the night? When was the last time I looked in a mirror and didn't rush past it?

I carried his child. I stayed home for his child. I ruined my body for his child.

And now my body disgusts him.

I heard the door close upstairs.

Leo was still doing his homework. Quiet upstairs. He didn't need to see his mother like this.

I sank to the floor. My back against the couch he just left

I wasn't thinking straight anymore. I just wanted to see him.

I wanted to see Alex. He was the only one who made me feel wanted.

I grabbed my car keys and drove back to the penthouse, mascara already running down my cheeks.

He opened the door in his white shirt and just stared at me.

Before he could speak, I rushed into him and kissed him. Hard. Desperate.

He was shocked — I felt it — but he didn't push me away. I had wanted to do that for a very long time.

The kiss deepened, and then he gently pulled away, his eyes dark.

"Ryan..."

I couldn't stop. My hands were already on his shirt, trying to unbuckle it. He caught both of my hands and held them.

"Are you sure you want this?"

I bit my lower lip and nodded slowly.

He was looking at me like he wanted to devour me. I saw the hunger in his eyes.

But it wasn't a scary hunger. It was restrained. Like he was holding himself back from me.

I could feel it — his chest rising fast, his hands tight on my waist, like he wanted it to be hard, fast, desperate.

But he didn't. He forced himself to be lovely. To be slow.

He kissed my tears first, before my lips. And that's when I knew this wasn't just sex for him.

For all the threats he'd been giving me, all the filthy promises about what he'd do when he finally got me alone...

He was calm.

He didn't treat me like one of his BDSM girls. He didn't tie me, didn't punish me, didn't call me names.

He just made sweet, sweet love to me. Like I was fragile.

Like I was his.