Leo meant every damn word he said. And instead of me being the one driving him insane, the tables flipped. He started a psychological warfare campaign that made me question my own existence.
The first morning, I poured my usual coffee, took a sip, and immediately spat it out so violently that I nearly dislocated my own jaw. Salt. So much salt I was sure I’d just swallowed the ocean. Leo, standing by the fridge, casually stirring his own coffee, watched me with an infuriatingly calm expression before smirking and walking out of the kitchen like he hadn’t just committed a war crime.
The next time, I was working in the dining room, left for a bathroom break, and returned to my coffee like an unsuspecting fool. One sip, and I practically projectile-spat it all over my laptop. Gagging, I wipe
