Page 149 of I'm sorry, Princess

And now he’s tearing himself out of me. And I can feel the ripping.

He steps closer, slow, deliberate. His hand brushes my cheek. I flinch at the tenderness, it feels wrong. Another tear slips free, landing on his fingers.

Those cold blue eyes hold mine, steady, unblinking. His breath ghosts against my skin, warm where his words are ice.

“We’re over, princess.”

It’s soft. Too soft. Like he wants the cruelty to linger. “Now get the fuck out and never come back. Unless…”

His mouth curves into a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. “…unless you want to stay and entertain me. Otherwise, I have no use for you. And I doubt your husband will approve of the way I’d choose to entertain myself with you.”

The kiss he presses to my cheek is slow, deliberate, mocking. He’s tasting my tears like they’re some victory.

Is this the same man who once told me I was his world?

Something inside me snaps. My hand flies up before I can think. The slap cracks through the air, my palm stinging instantly, the ache racing up my arm. I put everything into it, every drop of pain, rage, betrayal.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.

For a moment, I almost wish he’d hit me back. At least then I’d know I’d touched him, hurt him the way he’s hurting me. But he just looks at me like I’m nothing.

And then he turns and walks away.

No last look. No hesitation.

Just gone.

I stand there, frozen, the sound of my own breathing loud and broken in my ears. My tears hit the floor, one after another, until I realize my whole body is shaking.

The man I love, the man who owns every part of me, just left me in pieces on the floor. And I don’t know if I’ll ever find them all again.

“Let’s go, Serena,” Andres says softly, his voice low, almost careful, like I might break apart right here on the floor.

But I can’t move.

My knees give out before I realize what’s happening, and I curl in on myself, pulling my legs to my chest as though I can physically hold myself together. My arms lock around me, but they can’t keep the shaking out.

I try to breathe, but every inhale is shallow, jagged, as though the air itself is too heavy to pull into my lungs. Panic spreads like fire through my veins, each heartbeat pounding harder and faster until it feels like my ribs might crack from the inside.

“Breathe, you’re not alone.”

I don’t know if it’s the lack of oxygen or the unfamiliar gentleness in Andres’s voice that pulls my head up, but suddenly he’s there beside me. He kneels, his presence grounding, his arms coming around me in a way I never expected.

“Please, help her!” Clara’s voice cuts through the air. I swear she sounds far away, like she’s calling to me from theend of a long tunnel. But she’s right here, I can see her. Why does it feel so distant?

“Name five things you can see,” Andres says, his voice steady but low, pulling me back from the edge.

My throat is tight, but I force the words out. “Clara… my hands… you… the floor… the door.”

“Good,” he whispers. “Now four things you can touch.”

“I—uh… myself… the floor…” My voice falters, because that’s when it hits me again. The words that shattered me minutes ago slam into me like a fresh wound.

We’re over.

My breath hitches. I taste salt. My chest burns. “He never loved me,” I whisper, my voice shaking apart as I clutch at Andres like I might drown without something to hold on to.

“He loves you,” Andres says quietly, so certain it almost breaks me more. He keeps his arms around me, but I can’t stop shaking.