Hating You to the Grave Chapter 2

The camera zoomed in. The scar on his brow bone was distinct.

I gave him that scar with a hunting knife.

There was no special reason. I was just in a bad mood that day, so I cut him.

The jagged scar on my neck was from when he crushed a whiskey glass with his bare hand and stabbed me with a shard.

No special reason for that, either.

We always believed in "an eye for an eye." We loved seeing each other in pain.

The female anchor on TV smiled suggestively.

"Mr. Devereaux, are you planning to stay long this time? Those roses... are you meeting someone special?"

He paused, his voice deep and raspy. "My fiancée."

The girl in my shop, busy arranging roses and candlesticks, turned her head at the sound.

"Marcus, I heard Jules has a childhood sweetheart in New Orleans he’s been tangled with for ten years. Do you know her?"

I looked down and wiped a table knife. I felt Marcus’s gaze on me.

"Jules!"

The girl squealed, breaking the weird tension in the small room.

She ran out into the rain, forgetting her umbrella.

"Savannah."

Outside, Jules caught her with one arm, tilting his umbrella to cover her.

She stood on her tiptoes and pecked the corner of his lips.

Jules seemed to pull back slightly.

Then, our eyes met through the rain-streaked glass window.

It was a violent collision.

Savannah tried to look back at the shop, but he grabbed her chin and kissed her deeply.

I looked away and cut the pink ribbon in my hand.

Marcus walked up to the counter.

He hesitated before whispering, "Eva, I’m begging you... It’s his birthday. Just for today, don’t provoke him."

He paused, then added, "That girl is only nineteen. She’s innocent. She looks a bit like you used to."

I nodded, my fingertips numb from the cold.

"Yeah, she does. She’s prettier than I was."

The door pushed open again. Jules walked in, closing his black umbrella.

"Talking about my fiancée?"

His voice carried a smile, but his eyes were like frozen daggers aimed right at me.