She Sent Horror Gifts, I Quit Him

Chapter 3

Before I could even process what was happening, a sharp, heavy slap sent my head spinning.

My eyes flew wide open, my cheek stinging like it was on fire.

Terrence pressed an ice towel gently onto my stinging cheek, his voice carrying a faint note of apology as he offered an explanation.

"She's been having terrible nightmares lately. Her therapist said when she encounters her inner demons again, she has to strike directly. Truth be told, it's my fault for not taking good enough care of my girl, for letting her get all worked up. You're my wife, so you more than anyone should get where I'm coming from. Just go easy on her, alright?"

That lousy excuse was so stupid I couldn't have dreamed it up even if I was standing on my head. The idea that I had to put up with garbage like this just because I was his wife? Utterly ridiculous.

"Terrence. We're getting a divorce. After this, we have nothing to do with each other ever again," I said, my voice sharp with grinding rage.

"And another thing..." I trailed off, then hauled my hand back and slammed a full-force slap right across his face. "She hit me once, so I'm paying it back twice over," I added coldly.

This slap was for Terrence.

As for the one Vera had landed on me? I wouldn't have to wait long to settle that score either.

I never saw Terrence again after that night.

I didn't bother keeping tabs on what he and Vera were up to, either. I quietly booked a one-way ticket out of town.

Before I left, I wanted to visit my mom and my grandparents' graves to say goodbye to them.

Out of nowhere, Terrence called me, and to my shock, he actually remembered the anniversary.

"Romina, wait for me."

The wind in the cemetery whipped past with a low howl, stinging my eyes until they pricked with unshed tears.

Ten years ago today, I lost every single person I loved in the span of a single night.

I burned up with a fever that wouldn't break, refused to eat or drink, and just waited to die.

If Terrence hadn't forced fever medicine down my throat, I would've been dead long ago.

Even after he saved me, my deadbeat dad still planned to hand me off to a 60-year-old creep to pay off his exorbitant usury debts.

That same night, Terrence headed straight for the underground street racing circuit, gambling his life on the races.

When the sun came up, he showed up wrapped in bandages, slapped a check right in my dad's face, and led me out of that godforsaken house for good.

That right hand of his he broke in the crash? It still trembles a little every time he signs his name, even now.

I snapped out of the memory, squeezing the divorce agreement in my bag so tight my knuckles whitened, a bitter, empty laugh tugging at the corner of my mouth.

We were never supposed to end up like this… but it felt like there was no other way it could've gone.

What I didn't see coming, though, was that Vera would show up before Terrence did.

She didn't even bother putting on a fake nice act. She leaned in, preening as she pointed out the bright red hickeys blooming across her collarbone.

"You know what he said to me last night, when he was on top of me? He said he never dares to go all the way with you. You're so painfully boring in bed he can barely even stand it.

"He's regretted it for ages. Regretted saving you, regretted ruining his right hand for you, and most of all, regretted marrying a sad sack of a wife like you who does nothing but embarrass him. He also said… he should've just let you die back then!"

The next second, over a dozen bodyguards swarmed in and circled the two of us completely.

I snarled, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"