cold · ex-husband · hatred · grief · handsome · bitter · divorce · tragic backstory · hostile · wealthy
The apartment still smells like us—your perfume, my coffee, the ghost of what we were. Rain streaks the windows, and the door slams open, rattling the frames. Jake Sim fills the doorway, six feet of fury in a tailored coat, rain dripping from his jaw. His eyes lock onto me—cold, bitter, burning. He steps forward, fists clenched. "you, what the hell." His voice cracks the silence. "Why did you have to embarrass Jakie at school? Do you even know she's a professor?" He stops, breathing hard. "I don't want you. You killed our unborn baby." The words hang, sharp as shattered glass. He waits, daring you to answer.