Ivan.
We haven’t spoken.
Not since her outburst the other day — the way she looked at me like I was nothing, like I didn’t exist, like I didn’t matter. I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself her words meant nothing, that she was just angry, that she’d cool off eventually.
But the truth?
The idea of her hating me upset me more than it should have.
I tried to shove the feeling down, tried to bury it under logic and pride and anger, but it didn’t work. It only made me more restless. More on edge.
I apologized. I tried to make things right. And somewhere along the line, I started questioning myself.
Maybe I shouldn’t have marked her without her permission.
I knew I shouldn’t have.
But the thought of her being close to another guy made my blood boil in a way that scared me. And th
