Arthur
I searched for Iris for five years, and today, I finally saw her.
At first, I felt a mixture of heartache and longing. Finally, I found my fated mate.
But the longer I watched her today—her smile, her ease with the man and the children—the more the ache turned to anger. How can she look so at peace when she has torn my world apart?
My chest tightens at the memory of her defiant face in that alley. I’ll admit that the anger took hold of me then, and I couldn’t help but mock her for leaving me for money.
And then I tried to offer her more than whatever that bastard could give her. But for some reason, she refused. And she looked like she wanted to kill me.
Now, as I sit in my study later that night, the confusion consumes me. And so does the anger.
The thou
