She wasn’t in fucking Bali.
Incoherent words, probably spewing bullshit.
“He’s good.” Adelaide glanced at me, and I forced a smile. “I’m sorry about the wedding. I know you told me I shouldn’t marry him, but he’s a good man and I’ve known him my whole life.”
Why the fuck was she apologising for it?
We were married.
I was herhusband.
She didn’t owe anyone a fucking explanation, especially not that two-faced bitch.
Adelaide looked fucking thrilled to speak to that witchabout us. It’d kill me to break her apart when she recently started to pull herself together.
Her relationship with Eda wasn’t one I understood, but honesty would lead to more harm.
If you’re not honest with her, you’ll lose her.
Fuck.
I hated this.
How do you tell someone their loved one isn’t a good person?
Adelaide smiled bright at whatever the fuck Eda said to her.
There was a chance she felt guilty about the past.
Is that why she spent so many fucking years impersonating Adelaide? Giving money to young girls to make sure they stay fucking quiet?
I was in a fucking mess because I’d have to be the one to tell Adelaide about Eda.
Isn’t the truth better than lying?
I never lied. I just hid it from her.
That’s worse.
Fuck. I needed to think.
Anger and coherency merged into one.
Marching out of the tent, the afternoon was at its brightest, burning away my logic, my kindness, my fucking sanity.
Halfway across the field, Adelaide came running after me. “Hey! Where are you going?”
I didn’t stop.
“Christian!”
She caught my sleeve and steered to stand in my way. “What?”
Her shoulders dropped from one look at my cold face. “Did something happen?”
Rubbing an impatient finger over my brow, I shook my head. “No.”
Stay calm, Christian.
