Page 100 of My Only

“I had to work, Ayla!” I shouted back.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard I thought she might tip over from the force of it.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to look away, to breathe through the frustration.

“Sometimes…” I groaned, shaking my head, “I don’t think you understand how big this project is, A.”

Her expression went flat.

Then she shook her head. “I needed you tonight, Hassani.”

“Ayla, it was just a fucking dinner, baby,” I argued, throwing up my hands. “And like Harper said?—”

She scoffed. Loudly.

The moment Harper’s name left my mouth, Ayla’s entire face twisted into something terrible.

“Harper?” she snapped, her voice laced with disbelief. “Harper said? Has she officially made it into my house now?”

I frowned, completely thrown. “What?”

She just stared at me.

Her chest rising and falling, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

And just like that, the fight left me.

I hated seeing her like this.

Even if I thought she was being dramatic as hell, I hated it.

I stepped toward her, reaching out, but she moved fast.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Uh-uh.”

My brows furrowed. “A?—”

She blinked.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” I whispered. “Talk to me.”

She didn’t answer.

She just turned, and stormed out of the kitchen.

I reached for her, instinctively grabbing for her arm, but she slapped my hand away.

Didn’t stop.

Didn’t look at me.

Just kept going.

I let out a sharp grunt, pressing my hands flat against the kitchen island to ground myself.

To come home after a day like today, only to walk into this?