Her arm was trembling in his grip.
Not because she was scared.
Because she was holding back from slapping him again.
He didn’t speak. He just held her wrist like it was the only lifeline he had left in a world collapsing around him.
“I don’t know how to live without you anymore,” he said.
She stared at him.
And something inside her cracked.
“Then learn,” she whispered. “Because I’m not some crutch to your trauma. I’m not the second coming of a dead girl you still dream about. I’m not a replacement, Dominic.”
His grip tightened.
“You are everything.”
“No, I’m yours. That’s different. That’s not love. That’s ownership.”
“I do love you.”
“No you don’t!” she screamed, ripping her arm out of his hand. “You f**k me. You use me. You chain me to your grief and call it love.”
He steppe
