To Love Is To Hate

a P

, trailing behind Saint. I stared at the red marriage cer

nly married!

y grabbed Saint's arm, my voice puzzled. "

en my grandfather suggested registering, you

open. "What? I wan

ce carrying a trace of regret.

ing serious or just mocking me. W

one bed, and the thought of sharing it with him made my head spin. Thankfully, Saint had

n't healed. The water stung as it hit my shins, but I had to endure it. After washing

Just p

and avoid further embarrassment. Wrapping a towel aroun

standing by

ust've missed his arrival o

er my wet hair, the towel barely covering me, and lingered for what felt like an

e bathroom door shut, my heart

eard his voice, deep and

ed out, "Could you, um, hand me

sed me the bundle of clothes, along with underwear and a

ngs easier, though the awkwardness still clung to me. I couldn't help but reflect on the situation. We

ided to address it. "Saint,

lent before responding. "Is this about that

tely lost. What hi

ied to cancel our engagement, claiming I'd fallen i

ll rememb

his voice cold. "You don't

eve it. Did he w

said, "Fine. I'll draw up a divorce agreement, but we'll

y

he best solution. Grandfather wouldn't object

," I a

rd part, where were

didn't leave me hanging. He stood up, his eyes unr

h. Why did it always feel like we were at odds, just li

utler stood there, holding a small jar. "Miss Giovanni, this is an

new about my cuts. "Thank you,"

d. "This was prep

tared at him

to bring it to you, but told me

eld the ointment, warmt

one buzzed with a

re are you staying tonigh

ut sneer. "Still p

ation. But no more. I wouldn't tolerate her, or the Giovanni