Page 25 of The Devil's Canvas

"That’s ridiculous," I murmur, rolling onto my side, pressing closer to him, trying to drown in the warmth of his skin so I don’t have to feel the way his words sink into my ribs.

"Yeah," he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

His fingers skim over my back, slow and thoughtful, like he’s trying to memorize me before I slip away completely.

I close my eyes and pretend I don’t feel it.

Well, after that, things got a thousand times worse. We argued constantly, but I never had anything to say.

Actually, I had a lot to say. But it wouldn’t come out, no matter what I tried. I couldn’t even change my facial expression.

And that wasn’t even the worst part. The first thing to go was my happiness.

And what was left in its absence? Anger.

That was the all I had left. So, I used it, clung to it, let it consume whatever broken parts were still inside me.

Eventually, there wasn’t even anger.I became nothing. A statue.

"Why don’t you love me anymore?"

Dominic’s voice sounds raw, desperate, but I don’t flinch. I just stare at him, arms crossed, body stiff, waiting. Waiting for what? For him to stop asking questions I can’t answer? For him to finally see that I don’t have anything to give?

"You don’t touch me the same," he continues, his voice edged with frustration. "You don’t smile at me. You don’t laugh with me. You don’t—fuck, Ophelia, you don’t even look at me like I matter anymore."

"So?" The word scrapes out of me, sharp and reckless, before I can stop it.

His brows pull together, hurt flickering in his eyes before something heavier settles in. Anger, resentment.

"So?" he repeats, voice tight. "That’s all you have to say?"

I exhale through my nose, my jaw locking. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to feel. "What else do you want from me?" I ask, my voice colder than I mean it to be.

"I want you to care!"

"I do!"

"No, you don’t."

The words are a punch to my ribs. I know he’s right, I know he’s seeing it now, really seeing it. That the happiness, the love, the warmth—it’s all gone. It drained out of me, and I don’t know when or how it happened.

But anger is still there.

Anger is the only thing left.

At least I had anger.

But what’s worse than that? Not being able to show anything at all. That’s what really broke us. It wasn’t the fights or the distance, it was the nothingness, that was what ended us.

And now he’s married to Melanie. Maybe he wanted her all along, she could give him what I lost. He could have the smiles, laughter, and softness that left me.

A woman who could stand beside him in front of the cameras. Walk the red carpet at his side. Someone he could be proud of.

Someone who wasn’t me.

"I need to tell you something." Dominic’s voice is quiet. Careful.

I look up from the table, blinking at him. He’s been shifting in his seat for the past ten minutes, fingers tapping against his glass, shoulders tense. Something is wrong, I feel it in the air between us, in the way his jaw tightens before he exhales.

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