Victoria’s point of view
The next morning, I wake up to the comforting warmth of Ace beside me. It feels reassuring to have him close after everything we've been through. Taking care not to disturb him, I slip out of bed, noticing the time: 11 am. Ace deserves to sleep in after everything he's endured. After a careful shower, I change into a floral blue summer dress, relishing the familiarity of my own clothes. Glancing in the bathroom mirror, I confront the evidence of the previous day's ordeal. Bruises mark my skin, dark and painful, reminders of the violence I endured. My face bears the marks of a backhand, with puffiness and tenderness that make the idea of applying makeup unbearable. The handprints around my throat serve as a chilling reminder of just how close I came to losing every
