I swore I wouldn’t cry.

But the moment I saw Jim standing there, still speaking to me so affectionately—as if nothing had happened—my heart twisted like it had fallen straight into hell.

Was he like this with Claire too?

Did he cook for her, wash her clothes, whisper sweet nothings while his hands wandered under her shirt?

Just imagining it made my bile rise in my throat.

“Ugh—”

I shoved my chair away and rushed to the bathroom.

Jim’s eyes widened in surprise. A flash of something unreadable crossed his face, and then he hurried after me.

He stopped outside the bathroom door, hearing the sound of me retching. A...