The water turned off, and Rachel stood there, shivering, her body exposed. I didn't turn away. I made her look at me, made her face the consequences of her actions.
I’d tried the civil route. I tried the "we need to talk" coffee dates. She’d just blink those faux-innocent lashes and gaslight me into thinking I was insecure. But when I found the definitive proof—a receipt for a hotel room in his pocket and her lipstick on the envelope—the civility died. The Ambush cornering my homewrecking roomie in the shower
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone." The water turned off, and Rachel stood there,
I didn’t knock. I used the emergency key we keep above the frame. The water turned off