STIGMA

Crack!

My fiancé hit me.

Three minutes ago, I had been daydreaming about how to decorate our ridiculously expensive penthouse apartment, where every corner looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine.

Two minutes ago, I accidentally broke a mug.

Then, Rhys slapped me across the face-hard.

My cheek burned like it had been seared by fire. It took a full thirty seconds before my brain restarted, slowly piecing reality back together.

"Are you fucking insane?" I gritted my teeth, forcing the words through the cracks of my jaw.

Rhys's lips were pressed into a cold, tight line, his expression dark and resolute. "It was just a mug with Catherine's face on it," he said, as if my reaction was an overblown performance, not the result of something horrifying he had just done.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." I stared at him in disbelief, my chest heaving as rage and humiliation churned violently inside me, ready to explode.

For half a second-just half-something like guilt flickered across his face. Then it vanished, consumed by a storm of fury.

"No, you're the insane one!" he roared. "I already agreed to marry you-what more do you want? Catherine's gone, but you still broke that mug on purpose!"

His voice trembled with anger. "She was your sister! She had to leave because of you! And now you're jealous of her? You won't rest until every trace of her is erased, will you?"

The hatred in his eyes cut deeper than the slap.

My cheek throbbed. My hand was still bleeding. But nothing hurt more than my heart.

I forced myself to unclench my jaw and made one last attempt to explain. "It wasn't me. I never asked her to leave."

Technically speaking, I understood why someone might say that. Catherine had left behind a letter. In it, she said she'd seen my diary, realized I had a crush on Rhys, and decided to "let go," to "let him be yours."

I don't think she ever understood that a diary meant privacy. I never meant for anyone to read it, but not only did she read it-she told everyone.

No one cared about the pain I felt when my secret was exposed. I was dragged out, nailed to a pillar of shame, forced to pay for her so-called noble sacrifice.

To my family, it was like I'd been bumped up to the starting lineup out of nowhere, replacing the golden girl-I should've been grateful. Even if Rhys had stabbed me in the gut, they'd still find a way to excuse it.

It was as if my parents had always hated me. No matter how much better I did than Catherine, they always saw me as bitter, as someone who couldn't protect her fragile pride.

The searing pain on my cheek intensified.

My fingers clenched tightly around the engagement ring. A wave of heat-anger, humiliation, resentment-rose in my throat.

Hot tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I blinked fast, wiping them away before they could fall.

I would not cry. I would never show weakness in front of him.

I took a heavy step toward the door, struggling to move. I had to get out of there, or I would completely fall apart. Whatever shred of dignity I had left-I couldn't let it be destroyed in front of this man.

Rhys suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. "Clean it up."

I looked up at him in disbelief, needing to confirm I'd heard him right.

"You broke the mug. You clean up the pieces." His voice was icy, absolute.

He had to be insane.

"No." I lifted my chin and spat the word without an ounce of compromise.

His face tightened, jaw clenched. "You sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. I said no." My eyes were red, but they blazed with defiance as I stared him down without flinching.

If love meant I had to grind my self-respect into the dirt, then it was worthless to me.

The air between us was taut enough to snap. I could almost hear it crackling. The fury in his eyes was an uncontrollable blaze, threatening to consume me. And beneath that fire, I saw something else-disbelief. The once docile little lamb had bared her fangs.

He took a step closer, menace radiating from him. "Last chance. If you don't obey me, then we-"

"-are over," I finished for him, cold and final.

Shock froze his face. For a moment, the air went still. He hadn't expected me to actually say it.

While he was caught in that moment of confusion, I wrenched my arm free from his grip. The taste of freedom hadn't yet bloomed in my chest when he snapped back to life, grabbing my arm again with brutal force.

Now.

I spun around without hesitation and raised my hand-smack! A resounding slap landed hard across Rhys's handsome, arrogant face.

The air froze again, thick with silence.

My palm tingled slightly, but it brought a rush of fierce, unprecedented satisfaction.

Rhys staggered back a few steps, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief-not from the pain, but from a world turned upside down. He never thought I would dare. After all, I had once loved him so deeply.

I lowered my hand, lifted my chin, and looked calmly at his stunned expression. I gave him a faint smile. "Now we're even."

Without waiting another moment, I dragged my feet away from that suffocating hell.