ZANE
I didn’t mean to take the painting out of her hands like I did. I didn’t mean to rip it from her hands like it burned me… like she burned me. And I definitely didn’t mean to painfully snatch it from her hands.
But I did. And it did burn.
My fingers tightened around the wooden frame like it was my mother’s arms and like I was dragging her ghost back from wherever the hell she had gone.
“We would have been fine after some days, but you just had to do something to ruin the peace!” I yelled, my breathing ragged and shallow as I tried to keep my anger under control.
I saw her mouth move and her lips part but no apology came out, she didn’t even look like she was sorry.
“I’m sorry. Curiously just got the better of me,” she let out instead and something in me sparked.
Just that,
