The guest room was cold, but not because of the air. It was the kind of cold that settled in your bones after your heart had been battered too many times in a single day. I sat on the edge of the bed, arms folded tightly over my chest, trying to breathe through the silence. My body was still, but inside, everything burned... rage, disbelief, pain. Mostly pain. Stacy had played her part perfectly, hadn’t she? I should’ve been used to it by now, the way she transformed whenever Richard was in the room, how her voice turned sugar-sweet, her expressions softened, and she made herself seem so small, so helpless. He ate it up. Every time. And I was the one who ended up looking like the villain. Richard hadn’t come to check on me. Not a knock. Not even a text. It was a small thing, but it said a lot. Hours passed. I didn’t keep track of time. There was no point. I stayed curled up on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the walls, the pale light seeping through the curtains. Eventually, my
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