Alaric
He had done it again. Running off as if he was afraid of something.
What the hell was it? Was it the sight of me after sex? Did he truly despise it that much? I tried so hard to figure out what was happening, racking my brain for any logical reason why he acted like this, but I couldn't understand his reasons for always running off the absolute second he got his release.
It was becoming a pattern, a humiliating routine that left me raw in more ways than one.
I heaved a deep, exhausted sigh as I remained slumped on the cushions of the couch, unable to move.
The first time it happened, during our Maldives trip, I hadn't questioned it. Back then, our intimacy level hadn't reached this volatile, explosive point.
But right now, it felt entirely different. It felt like he was running away from something real, something terrifying or maybe he was running away from the very sight of me.
