Armani
I rub the heel of my palm against my eyebrow, pressing firmly into the tight knot of tension that has taken permanent residence there since the fateful day Rena and I exchanged our formal vows. The pressure offers momentary relief, but seconds later, the throbbing returns with renewed vengeance. Nothing seems capable of easing this persistent discomfort—a physical manifestation of my emotional turmoil. It certainly doesn't help matters that I haven't properly slept in the past month—between the relentless guilt continuously gnawing at my conscience and the profound ache that comes with knowing I'll never truly be able to hold her in my arms the way I desperately desire to...
What in God's name was I thinking?
The question haunts me daily, echoing through my thoughts during quiet
