Ariana’s POV
"Rie," he said again, like that name still meant something.
Like he had the right to say it.
I yanked the blanket off my head, heart pounding.
No. I wasn’t going to cry under the covers like some shattered little girl. I wasn’t going to let him knock and whisper and pretend last night didn’t f*****g happen.
I shoved the blanket aside, got up, and stormed to the door.
His knuckles were still raised when I opened it.
Roman froze.
We just stood there, inches apart, the silence thick and ugly between us. His hoodie hung loose on his frame, hair messy, eyes bloodshot like he hadn’t slept either.
Good.
I wanted him to suffer too.
"What do you want?" I asked, voice sharp, tight, fighting the tremble trying to break through.
He stared at me like I was a ghost.
"I just...
