Blame it on me

16

Austin had never been like that. He touched her like she mattered. Always gentle. Always attentive. He never left her behind. Never left her feeling alone in those moments.

Except now... the smile fades. Her lips tremble. And then the thought slithers in like poison.

Is he like that with Emery?

The question slices through her, hot and jagged.

Does he touch her the same way? Whisper to her the same soft things? Does he kiss her neck the way he kisses mine? Does she feel his eyes on her like I used to? Like he still watches me sometimes and I pretend not to see?

Her breath hitches. Her hands begin to shake.

She presses her palm against the slick wall to steady herself, but the tiles feel too far away, the floor unsteady. Her heart squeezes, a sharp, unbearable pressure. It cracks in her chest like thin glass.

He told her once, years ago, that he'd never felt as in tune with another woman. That their bodies just fit, like they were made for each other. But if he's capable of cheating, he's capable of lying about that too. Of lying to her face with those same soft eyes.

Zia's knees buckle.

She catches herself against the wall just in time. Her whole body trembles, the water cascading over her, but she doesn't feel it anymore.

Over the years, he had touched her less and less. Said he was tired. Said work was draining him. That his mind was elsewhere. Saturday nights-that's all she got. One night a week. One night to feel wanted. One night to convince herself they were okay.

Was Emery there for the other six?

The thought guts her.

And now, here on this trip, they've been intimate every day-like the man who had once held her at arm's length had suddenly remembered how to touch her again. But is it her he wants now... or is she just convenient because Emery isn't around?

A replacement. A placeholder.

The water pounds her skin but can't wash any of it away.

She sinks to her knees on the wet floor, curling into herself as the sobs tear through her. Her body shakes. Her chest heaves. The steam swirls, the heat pressing down-but inside, she's frozen.

She falls apart beneath the showerhead, and shatters a little more. How is she going to come out of this? Loosing Austin is breaking her.

The steam clings to Zia's skin, ghosting over her like fingertips. The water pours over her shoulders, warm and steady, but it does nothing to ground her. The smile that once curved her lips has vanished, leaving behind something hollow and raw. She stits frozen beneath the shower, arms wrapped around herself as though she can hold the pieces of her breaking heart together.

Every time she dares to believe they're moving forward-every time Austin looks at her like she matters again, touches her like he remembers who they used to be-reality finds a way to claw it apart. It never lasts. Never holds. Hope is a trickster with cruel hands, and Zia is tired of falling for the illusion.

She bites down hard on her bottom lip, as if pain can anchor her, but it only makes her taste blood.

If she were stronger, this would be easier. She'd confront him. She'd tear into him, scream at him to stop, to choose, to be a damn man for once and end the lies. She'd dial Emm-the-Easy-so beautiful, so clever, so everything Zia isn't-and tell her exactly what kind of woman inserts herself into someone else's marriage.

But it's not in her. Not in her nature to shout, to fight, to rage. She's not sharp-tongued like Jada, who could cut a man down with a look. Not fearless like Mary had been, she would have walked out on Josh if he had ever cheated without a single backward glance. Not strong like Lucy, who can stand her ground even if it cost her everything.