Jayce’s face contorted, that familiar, ugly deflective streak of his coming out in full force. He couldn't handle the guilt, so he did what he always did—he tried to smear it back on her.
"Who did you go to Paris with?" he barked, stepping toward her again, his voice cracking with a mix of jealousy and desperation. "Were you with a guy? You're standing here accusing me of cheating, but what about you? Did you f**k someone else the second you left?"
Raya stopped at the door, her hand on her suitcase handle. She slowly turned back to look at him, and for the first time in their entire relationship, she felt absolutely nothing. No hurt, no need to defend herself, just a cold, sharp pity.
"You really don't get it, do you?" she said, her voice eerily calm. "I went to Paris because I finally
