Meera

I punched and punched and punched my fists into the dough, over and over again, ignoring the stinging pain shooting through my knuckles. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t stop. I kept kneading, overworking the dough—just like I was overworking my breaking heart.

"You are a whore."

"You are a whore."

"You are a whore."

That’s what he called me. A whore.

I’ve been called many things—ugly, freak, fat, bitch—but never that. Never that. And the cruelest part? I am a damn virgin.

I have always kept my distance from men, except when I was- except for Ian, my best friend. But Ian and I are purely platonic—no...