I nearly gagged. “You also liked calling me frigid because I wouldn’t let you put your unwashed demon d**k inside me, remember that?”
His smile froze.
I leaned in, voice lower now. “You made me feel like I wasn’t enough, Marcus. You humiliated me. You made me believe that not giving you s*x meant I didn’t love you. You made jokes about me to your friends. You turned something sacred to me into a punchline. So yeah. I look good now. But I felt like s**t for months because of you.”
He opened his mouth like he wanted to defend himself — like he hadn’t been the villain in every chapter of that story — and I held up my hand.
“Don’t. Just don’t. Don’t apologize. Don’t explain. Don’t act like this is nostalgia. It’s not. It’s trauma. Dressed in denim and cologne.”
He stared at me, quiet now.
