Chapter 9 A Debt Of Pain

Now

The door slammed shut with a force that rattled the walls, leaving Layla trembling on the bed. Her breath came in sharp gasps, her chest rising and falling erratically as she tried to process what had just happened.

Her mistake.

Her stupid mistake.

She thought-no, she hoped-that maybe, just maybe, a simple cake could thaw the ice between them. That the memory of what he once loved would remind him of the man he used to be. But she was wrong. Horribly, painfully wrong.

Her body ached where he had thrown her. Her wrists burned where his fingers had dug into her skin. But none of it compared to the hollow ache in her chest.

Roman had been livid the moment he stepped into the house.

She could still hear his voice ringing in her ears, raw with fury.

"Who told you to do this?"

"I only did it for you," she had whispered, voice shaking. "I remembered how much you loved your birthday parties. You always loved celebrating with your parents and-"

She never got to finish.

The glass he threw shattered against the wall, sending sharp shards flying. She had screamed, flinching, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself. But it wasn't just fear that gripped her-it was confusion.

Why?

Why did he hate his birthday now?

Why did the man who once looked forward to this day with so much excitement now see it as something to despise?

And then he said it.

"You didn't have any right."

He repeated it, voice lower this time, but far more dangerous.

Layla's mind raced, trying to make sense of his anger. He never hated his birthday before. If anything, he treasured it.

And his sister...

His sister.

Layla hadn't seen her since she arrived at the house.

Where was she?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Roman grabbed her, yanking her forward so fast she barely had time to react.

His body was pressed against hers, his breath hot against her face, his grip unyielding.

"How could you live with yourself after what you did to me?" His voice was thick with resentment, eyes dark and piercing. "How could you do this to me? I loved you. I loved you more than anything in the world. I trusted you. I gave you my heart, and you stepped on it."

Layla's lips parted, but no words came out.

"I hate it when you're not crying," he whispered, his voice almost cruelly soft now. "I want to see you cry. I want to see you in pain. I want to see you writhe in it."

Her breath hitched.

"I never want to see you smile because you don't deserve it. I want to see you begging me for help. That is how helpless I want you to be. That's how unhappy I wish you'd be. And that's how unhappy I will make you be-for the five years you owe me."

Then, just as suddenly as he grabbed her, he let go.

Layla fell back onto the bed, her hands shaking.

Roman turned without another word, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

The moment he was gone, the dam broke.

Layla curled into herself, sobbing, her body shaking with the force of her cries.

What had she done?

What had she done to turn the boy who once adored her into this?