Page 188 of Ruins
He shrugs, “Depends on how many morefriendsyou decide to make.”
A sharp, bitter laugh rips from me. “I can’t make friends, Santo. As soon as I do, they all magically disappear on‘vacations.’”
I storm forward, and for the first time, he steps back. But I don’t let up.
I stab a finger into his chest. “You deleted Luna from my life.” Stab. “Lila came back and won’t even speak to me.” Stab. “You send guards away like they’re disposable pawns.” Stab. “You force the staff to ignore me like I don’t even exist.” Stab.
The last words rip from me, raw and aching. “And then youleaveme for months at a time.”
Santo’s expression flickers—his shoulders tense, his mouth parts like he’s about to say something, but I don’t let him.
“I feel so alone, Santo.” My voice cracks, the tears breaking free. “This doesn’t feel like a marriage. It doesn’t even feel like a real relationship.”
His storm-dark eyes soften, guilt creeping into the lines of his face. “I don’t know how to be in a relationship,” he mutters, voice low.
I let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, please. Yes, you do.”
His brow furrows. “Casual sex doesn’t equal a relationship.”
Casual sex. The words are a slap to the face.
“Yet you have the nerve to complain about me being‘friendly’?”
His jaw ticks. “I haven’t been friendly with anyone since we were arranged.”
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “And I’ve had two relationships andnosex.”
His nostrils flare. “I’m supposed to believe that?”
I shake my head, done. “I don’t care what you believe anymore.”
Santo exhales sharply, his frustration mounting. “I just find it hard to believe, given the way you’vethrownyourself at me.” He steps closer, his voice dropping. “Or is that part of your duty as a wife?”
“Enough, Santo!” I snap, my voice shaking.
But he doesn’t stop, his accusations cutting deep. “You’re jealous of women who meant nothing to me, yet you have active relationships with every man you meet.”
“I donot!” My throat tightens. “You’re jealous because I smile or laugh or banter with anyone.”
Santo’s gaze darkens. “Because all those things should be reserved forme.”
I let out a sharp, exhausted chuckle. “My God, Santo, you have to reel that in. I’vetriedfor you.”
I lift my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. “I stayed up late waiting for you. I made dinners you never ate. I had doors slammed in my face. I tried to make something out of nothing—because I’myourwife.”
Santo’s jaw tightens. “And what a dutiful wife you are.”
The words are a blade.
His tone is bitter, dismissive, and it lights a new fire in my veins.
He turns, heading toward the sitting room, but I chase after him.
“Why do you keep using that as an insult?” My voice quivers with anger, frustration—pain.
Santo stops, turning slowly. “Because you were born into this.” His voice is sharp, controlled, but beneath it, something breaks. “You werebredto be the perfect, obedient wife.”
His eyes flicker, his fists clenching. “You don’t feel anything for me. You don’t love me.”
