“So you’re only using me to show your stepmother that you are capable of moving on from her.” That is what I can deduce from what he just confessed. I grabbed my pen and started writing about his intentions on this marriage. “You are still in love with her and you’re using me to make her jealous,” I mumbled while writing it all down.
We’re seated across each other and he’s looking at me with narrowed eyes.
“I don’t love—”
“Lie,” I interrupted. “If you don’t love her then why did you marry me?” I asked him. “You wouldn’t have married me to prove a point. But you did. So it only means one thing, you are still in love with her.”
I looked at his eyes and for some reason, I feel like I have the power right now.
He let out a heavy sigh. “No. I don’t love her. I hate her.”
I smirked. “T
