I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The way Alice had looked at Mark. The words she said—like I wasn’t enough. Like I couldn’t handle him the way she did.
It burned under my skin, and no matter how much I tried to shake it off, it just wouldn’t go away.
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Mark as he pulled off his shirt. His muscles flexed under the dim light, his body tense like he was holding something back. He’d been quiet since Alice left—too quiet. Like her words didn’t matter.
But I knew better.
And I couldn’t let it go.
"Mark," I said softly, breaking the silence.
He glanced at me, tossing his shirt onto the chair. "Yeah?"
I hesitated for a second, biting my lip. "What did she mean?"
His brow furrowed. "What?"
"When she said I couldn’t handle you," I pressed, my heart po
