Dangerous Husbands, Broken Wives [18+]

TWENTY-FIVE: FIERY INTENSITY

[ANASTASIA]

The moment I reach my room I shut the door and press my back against it.

My heart pounds inside my chest as if it's ready to break out of it.

I close my eyes and try to shake off the conversation I had with Ivan out of my head.

But it proves to be an impossible task.

Especially when I've done something that I've never done before.

I hit him.

I did.

I look down at my hand, still feeling the sting from the impact.

They are trembling...my whole body is.

I can't believe I let myself get so worked up.

Ivan's words had cut deep, and I let my anger get the best of me.

But the worst part is, deep down, a small part of me enjoyed it.

The rush of adrenaline, the feeling of power...

But only for a few seconds before I am back to being myself.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

This is not who I am. I am not a violent person. I'm not Ivan.

My eyes are welling up for the reason I don't understand.

Or maybe I do. I can't tell. Not right now.

No. I have to be strong. I have to be stronger than I ever have been. It's a must. It's something I need to survive this hell—to survive him.

I peel my back off the door and walk further into the room. My legs shake, knees threatening to buckle under the weight of something that makes no sense—not right now. Should I be feeling bad for what happened? Ivan had it coming since the moment he thought he could take me for granted and manipulate me like he used to. It was his mistake that he forgot my warning. I told him. I told him I wasn't the same person anymore. But, as always, he didn't take my words seriously—he didn't take me seriously.

Perhaps that's why I don't think I have done anything wrong, something for which I need to feel guilty.

I shouldn't be feeling guilty for anything.

But I also can't forget that he is the man I have ever loved. And I have loved him so deeply, so purely, so passionately, with all I have, with all of me. I wish he hadn't broken my heart like he did. I wish he had trusted me just enough for us to survive the storm that tore our lives apart. I wish he had loved me just as much as I loved him.

But he didn't. He never did.

An unbearable ache rises in my chest and spreads all over my body.

A painful sob racks out of me. Tears stream down my face.

I let myself break. Silently. Like always.

The next morning when I wake up, the first thing I feel is the stiffness all over my face. The tears have dried, leaving behind traces that feel like cuts against my skin.

I push myself up and inhale deeply, scratching the back of my head while taking a moment to make sense of the space around me.

It takes me another five seconds of just staring to recall my present circumstances. The fact that I'm back in hell. The fact that Ivan is an asshole and proved the same last night.

Our conversation floats in front of my eyes like a movie that I swore never to watch. And I instantly cringe when the sound of a slap echoes in my head.