Page 117 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
"...dressed like this, right in front of me."
Her breath hitched. Light, quick, lips parting then closing. Her chest rose and fell, those jutting collarbones shifting like trapped butterflies fluttering wings.
"My shirt got juice on it," she said, "I'm waiting for the maid to bring clean clothes."
Her tone stayed calm, like stating something that had zero to do with me.
She stood there, in nothing but a flimsy towel, explaining why she was half-naked in my guest room with this "no big deal" vibe.
Five years.
Five years. What had she been doing, where, with whom? Had she thought about—had she thought about the kid she left behind, about me?
Anger churned in my chest, like boiling water under a sealed lid, steam pressing against metal, no way out.
"Five years," I said, voice low, "where'd you go?"
She didn't answer.
"I'm asking," I propped my hand on the mirror behind her, cagingher in my arms, catching the shampoo scent in her hair, that familiar vanilla, "where'd you go?"
Her back pressed against the cool mirror, water vapor beading into tiny drops by her shoulder blades. She lifted her chin, eyes not dodging, but lips pressed into a tight line, so tight the pink faded to a barely visible streak.
"None of your business."
Those words dropped, and the bathroom went quiet.
"None of my business?"
The words poured like fuel on the fire in my chest.
"You left for five years," I said, biting each word hard, "no word, no contact, vanished like you never existed—then you're here now, telling me it's none of my business."
"Yeah," she said, voice still that eerie calm, calm enough to make me want to grab her throat, "I had the kid, finished our deal, then I left. That's my freedom."
"Freedom?" I stared at her, feeling the fire in my chest blaze hotter, "you call that freedom? You signed the contract, took the money, had the kid, then bailed without a word—"
"Isn't that what you wanted!" She raised her voice suddenly, a crack showing in her eyes, "Because of you and your family, your rules, you pushed me away—"
"I looked for you for five years."
The words slipped out, stunning even me.
She froze too, eyes widening like she couldn't believe her ears.
"What?"
"I said, I looked for you for five years." I repeated, fingers tightening, knuckles tapping lightly on the mirror, "I fucking looked for you for five years."
Her breath stopped.
"The morning you left, I came back to your room, found your stuff gone." My voice dropped, like I was talking to myself, "Closet empty, sheets cold, even the towels you'd used were cleared out. I stood there, telling myself you were just a woman I paid for, better off gone."
I paused, locking eyes with her.
"But I couldn't let it go."
Her lashes fluttered.
