Chapter 11

I stepped out of the bath, my skin still tingling from the warmth of the water, wrapped snugly in a towel—his towel. It was soft, still carrying the faintest trace of his scent, though clean enough to use. Luckily for me, I had found it folded neatly in one of his drawers. I didn’t ask for permission, nor did I need it. After everything he’s done, this was a small payback. Petty, maybe—but satisfying.

My dresses, the only ones I had with me, were completely drenched and ruined, soaked in his vomit. I had no choice but to wash them, scrubbing and wringing them out with silent prayers that they’d be dry by morning. If not… well, I’d figure something out.

Just for the night, I decided to take off my chest binder. My chest needed relief—air, freedom, space for blood to flow in and out without the usual tightness. The temporary liberation was soothing, a rare comfort I allowed myself.

I moved quietly toward him, still lying there unconscious and vulnerable. There was a smudge of dried spit