Intoxicated || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 77

Leila's POV

The past few weeks had been... different. Calm. And if I'm being honest, I liked it. Marshall and I weren't fighting like we usually did. Instead, we were wrapped up in each other, sharing quiet moments, stealing kisses in the kitchen, and making love like the world outside didn't exist. There was an intimacy between us that felt... safe. Peaceful. And I liked it. But it also scared me.

Our relationship had always been intense. Stormy. We thrived on chaos—the fire and fury that fueled everything between us. That's just who we were. So this calm, though beautiful, felt fragile. Like if I held onto it too tightly, it would break. And I didn't know if we could ever find it again if it did.

But it wasn't just the calm that scared me. It was everything. The pressure of living in Marshall's world—the fame, the cameras, the people constantly watching us. I didn't sign up for this. I didn't expect my life to turn into a spectacle, to feel like I was losing pieces of myself every time I walked out the door. It was suffocating, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, the weight of it all pressed down on me every second of the day.

It all came to a head today. We had been at the studio, and Mia, the new intern, had been too close again. I could see the way she looked at him, the way her eyes lingered a little too long, and it made my skin crawl. It wasn't just jealousy, though. It was the realization that I wasn't in control. Not of Marshall, not of my life, not of anything.

By the time we got home, that jealousy had twisted into something darker, something heavier. My thoughts were spiraling, and I couldn't stop it. It was like a pressure cooker, and any second, I was going to explode.

"Leila, what's going on?" Marshall's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, but instead of calming me, it only made the tension worse. He stood in the doorway, watching me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve. "You've been acting off all day."

I stopped pacing, my heart racing. "You really don't know?"

Frustration flickered across his face. "No, I don't. Maybe you should tell me."

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "Maybe I shouldn't have to. Maybe you should pay more attention."

"What the hell are you talking about?" His voice sharpened, already defensive.

"Mia," I spat, my voice dripping with venom. "That little bitch who can't seem to stay away from you. She's always hanging around, smiling at you like you're the goddamn second coming. You don't notice? Or do you just enjoy it?"

Marshall blinked, clearly taken aback by the venom in my tone. "Mia? She's a fuckin' intern, Leila. You seriously think I'd waste my time with some desperate little slut? What the hell's gotten into you?"

The fire in my chest flared hotter, my emotions burning out of control. "Doing her job? Is that what you think? She's practically drooling over you every second of the day! She's all over you, and you don't care. Maybe you even like it!"

His eyes narrowed, frustration hardening into something sharper. "You think I want anything to do with her? I don't give a damn about some random bitch who doesn't mean shit to me."

"I don't know!" I shouted, my voice trembling with anger. "Maybe you do. Maybe you like the attention. Maybe I can't trust you anymore."

The words hung in the air like a bomb. I saw disbelief flash in his eyes, replaced by something darker—pure rage.

"You don't trust me?" Marshall's voice dropped, venomous and biting. "After all the shit we've been through, you really think I'd throw it all away for some random slut? You think I'd waste a second on someone who doesn't even register to me?"