Page 33 of The Humiliated Wife

He'd read every comment. He'd laughed at them.

The worst part—the part that made her want to claw her way out of her own skin—was that some of them were right.

Shewasnaive. Shedidcry too easily. She didn’t speak their language, didn’t get their sleek, ironic jokes. She’d believed those things made her lovable. Unique. Worth holding onto.

But Dean had seen them as flaws. As fodder.

Her chest cinched, tight and sudden, like someone had wrapped a belt around her lungs and yanked. Her breath came shallow, too fast. The air in the car thickened, pressing against her skin like steam.

He’d kissed her goodnight while people laughed at her online. He’d said “I love you” while hitting the like button on a comment calling her dumb.

Her hands began to shake. Or had they been shaking this whole time?

The phone slipped from her fingers onto the seat beside her. Her heart pounded against her ribs, each beat louder than the last, drumming in her ears until it drowned everything else out.

She needed out. She needed air. She needed?—

She fumbled for the door handle, fingers stiff and clumsy. When the door finally swung open, she stumbled into the fresh air—blinking, gasping.

The parking lot reeled around her, too bright, too sharp, like someone had turned up the contrast on reality. Her knees buckled slightly. Sound bent weird around her, muffled and warped.

She couldn’t think past the white-noise roar in her head.

He’d made a joke out of her. And twenty thousand people had laughed.

She bent over, hands on her knees, and tried to breath.

She thought about calling Emma. About driving back to Sweetwater.

She needed to run. To erase this version of her life, the one that had turned out to be a lie. She wanted to disappear—start over somewhere quiet, somewhere no one had ever heard of Dean or his smug, polished posts.

But you couldn’t run from your life. Not like that. Not really. Not without logistics and planning and leases and... paperwork. Even heartbreak came with admin.

First she needed to get her things. All of them. Tonight.

She was done being married to a man who could watch strangers call her worthless and hit the like button.

The marriage wasn't just over.

It was dead. Had been dead for months, years, apparently, while she'd been busy loving someone who thought she was pathetic.

Maybe she had been. But that was going to change.

CHAPTER 16

Dean

The soundof the front door unlocking nearly made Dean drop his mug.

He froze for a second, standing barefoot in the kitchen, half a slice of cold pizza in one hand, tea steeping in the other. The door swung open. Fiona stepped inside.

His heart lurched. Relief hit him so hard it was dizzying.

She came back.

He moved quickly—too quickly—across the apartment, trying not to look like he’d been pacing for hours, trying to play it cool. “Hey,” he said, too casual. “I was starting to worry. Thought maybe you got lost in Sweetwater.”

Fiona didn’t answer. She didn’t smile. She didn’t even take off her shoes.