~Tiara
It was late. Too late for anyone to be out, much less someone married. But I heard him before I saw him—his heavy, uneven steps, the metallic scrape of keys against the door, and the unmistakable stench of alcohol. My so-called husband had returned.
I woke immediately, my instincts sharp as ever. My hand moved to the bedside lamp, flicking it on. A soft glow illuminated the room, casting long shadows over the walls. I glanced at the clock. 3:00 a.m. My jaw tightened. Six days since I’d been discharged, and this was the first time Giovianni had bothered to show his face.
He stood in the doorway, disheveled, his tie loose and shirt wrinkled. His eyes struggled to focus as he swayed slightly, gripping the doorframe for balance. I folded my arms, watching him.
"How are you?" h
