Jessica didn’t remember how she got home.She only remembered the blinding headlights, the hum of the car’s engine, and Bea’s voice, sharp, worried, and echoing through the haze.
By the time she woke, her head was pounding. The sunlight slicing through her apartment window felt like punishment. Her dress from last night lay crumpled on the floor beside her shoes, the faint smell of perfume and regret still clinging to the air.
Her throat ached, dry and raw. She stumbled to the sink, splashed her face with water, and stared at her reflection.
Her eyes were red. Her mascara was smudged. But it wasn’t vanity that made her stomach twist, it was memory.
His voice. The grip on her wrist. The words.
The three years that I gave you should be enough by now, Jessica. I think it is time for you t
