TANYA’S POV
He ignored me, his body entire of a storm of suppressed rage. I stretched out my hand to touch him without thinking because I was drawn to soothe the fresh gash on his cheek.
It was more like I wanted to feel it. I needed to confirm if it was indeed blood. It couldn't be right.
There was no way my husband would return on our wedding night drenched in someone else’s blood.
I watched him flinch away, his hand shooting out to shove me back.
"Don't!" he snarled, his voice rough with barely contained violence. "This isn't any of your concern." He reminded.
His words were like a slap in the face. I recoiled, stung by the venom in his tone.
But he was right. I was nothing to him.
I watched as he stumbled towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I stood there, froze
