Rewriting My Ruin

Summary

The day I caught Nathan Miller in bed with another woman, she didn’t scream or try to hide. Instead, she took a jagged shard from a broken bedside lamp and sliced it deep across her own cheek.

Nathan didn’t even look at me. He just lunged for her, pinning her hands down, shielding her mangled face with his own body as if she were a precious, wounded animal.

“Nathan, let me see her!” I screamed, my voice a raw, hysterical mess. “Let me see who she is!”

He turned his head just enough for me to see his eyes. They were bloodshot, rimmed with a desperate, suffocating guilt.