Mine to Give, Not Yours to Take
The lights in the room were blinding.
I calmly folded the last of my shirts to pack into the luggage when the door opened. Jonah Gregor’s tall figure appeared, and his hand paused halfway through loosening his tie when he saw the luggage on the floor.
“You are home early. Have you eaten?” Jonah sounded natural, as if he had not thrown our mate ring into another woman’s hands only hours earlier.
I felt tears rising, but I held them back and continued packing.
Jonah was doing it again. He pretended nothing had happened, the same way he did after every argument. Each time, he coaxed me gently, bought me gifts, or held me from behind at night, and I always gave in. I always let the argument fade