Maria.
Humiliation clung to me like a second skin, heavy and suffocating. It pressed into my chest, into my lungs, making it hard to breathe. Aidan had proven it again, so clearly, so publicly, that in his eyes I was never anything more than something to use, something disposable. An object. A body. A mistake.
My cheeks still burned from the sting of his slap, the pain sharp and lingering, as though his hand had branded me. I could still feel it pulsing there, a cruel reminder of what had just happened. Everywhere I turned, eyes were on me. I didn't need to look up to know that. I could feel them, piercing, judging, devouring me whole as murmurs spread through the hallway like wildfire.
Whispers.
Gasps.
Condemnation.
My feet felt rooted to the floor, as though the ground itself had swallowed me. I couldn't move. I couldn't lift my head. I couldn't even cry. All I could do was stand there, frozen in the aftermath of my disgrace, my shoulders heavy with shame.
