Anguish and pain rip through my already raw heart, and for a while all I can do is look at him. I stare at the annoyance on his face and the rage gathering in his eyes. I look away as tears well in mine and I stare at the floor as I blink them back, asking with a steady but tired voice, a voice that poorly hides how much this hurts me. “How can you say that, Malachi?” Malachi’s voice still bears cold fury as he responds with spite, “It’s true, isn’t it?” His words are like arrows lodging into my chest, driving me closer to breaking down. He doesn’t stop there. He goes on in an irritated, annoyed voice, “I would never have married you if it wasn’t for my grandfather. You’re a nobody who wormed her way into my life, so let’s not act like this marriage is something it isn’t.” My mood worsens because I realize he still believes I drugged him that night. A night that means so much to me, is like a stain to him. A stain he will never get to rub away as long as he’s married to me. “
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