After My Fiancé Kissed Her, He Tried to Kill Me

I barely slept that night, Tommy's words echoing in my mind like a cruel mantra. *Repulsive. They're repulsive.* By morning, my shock had hardened into something sharper—a jagged edge of fury that cut through my usual carefully maintained composure.

I found him in our bedroom, lazily stretching as sunlight streamed through the windows. He looked so normal, so unaffected, as if he hadn't shattered my world just hours before.

"I heard you last night," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "With Juliana."

Tommy's expression flickered—surprise, then wariness, then something harder. "You were eavesdropping?"

"Eavesdropping?" The word hit me like a slap. "I'm your fiancée, Tommy. I wasn't hiding in the shadows hoping to catch you."

He sat up, running a hand through his perfect hair. "Sienna, don't make a scene."

"I heard what you said about my scars." My fingers unconsciously traced the ridged tissue along my jawline. "About how repulsive you find them."

Something shifted in his eyes—not remorse, but annoyance. He stood up, towering over me as I leaned against the dresser for support.

"Fine," he snapped. "You want honesty? Yes, Sienna, I find your scars repulsive. And that limp—" he gestured dismissively at my prosthetic leg, "—watching you struggle up a simple staircase makes me feel sick with pity."

The words struck like physical blows. I flinched backward, my hand flying to my mouth.

"And those," he continued, pointing at the network of scars visible at the neckline of my shirt, "they're a constant reminder of what you did. What you made me owe you."

"I didn't make you owe me anything," I whispered, tears burning behind my eyes. "I saved you."

"You trapped me!" Tommy's voice rose sharply. "Do you think I wanted this? Do you think any man would choose a woman who looks like—" He gestured at me with disgust. "Be grateful I'm even here, Sienna. Be grateful I put up with this."

A movement at the doorway caught my eye. Juliana leaned against the frame, her usual tomboy persona gone. She wore a tight tank top that accentuated her athletic build, her lips curved in a smirk that held no trace of sympathy.

"Morning, lovers," she drawled, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she took in my devastation.

---

"I'm done," I announced, pulling my suitcase from the closet. "We're finished, Tommy."

Panic flashed across his face—not heartbreak, but fear. "Sienna, don't be dramatic."

I yanked open drawers, grabbing clothes and stuffing them haphazardly into my bag. "I'm not being dramatic. I'm leaving."

"You can't leave." Tommy blocked the doorway, his expression hardening into something cold and calculating. "At least, not if you want your family to survive the week."

I froze, my hands still clutching a sweater. "What?"

"My parents," he said slowly, as if explaining to a child. "They've been supporting your father's failing business for years. One call from me, and all those loans get called in by Monday."

The blood drained from my face. "You wouldn't."

"Try me." His voice was ice. "Walk out that door, and your family will be on the streets by the end of the week."

I sank onto the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly unable to support me. The weight of my father's desperate voice from last night's call echoed in my memory.

"Tommy, please," I whispered.

"Please what?" He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Please don't make you choose between your pride and your family's survival?"

---

The campfire crackled in the gathering dusk, casting long shadows through the forest clearing. I sat apart from the others, my arms wrapped around my knees as Juliana passed around a bottle of whiskey.

"Time for games!" she announced, her eyes finding mine across the fire. "Truth or Dare?"

The group—mostly Tommy's friends from college—cheered enthusiastically. I started to excuse myself, but Tommy's warning glance stopped me cold.

"We're all playing," Juliana declared, her gaze never leaving my face as she took a long swallow of whiskey. "No exceptions."

The first few rounds were innocuous enough—harmless truths, silly dares. Then the bottle reached Juliana again.

"Sienna," she said, her voice carrying over the crackling fire. "Truth or dare?"

I hesitated, feeling the weight of eyes upon me. "Truth."

Juliana's smile widened. "What's the grossest part of your body?"

The circle fell silent. Someone coughed uncomfortably.

"My scars," I answered quietly.

"No," Juliana corrected, leaning forward with predatory intensity. "The grossest part is your attitude. Acting all victim-y when Tommy's only with you out of pity."

The words hung in the air like smoke. No one spoke. No one defended me.

"Your turn," Juliana continued, passing me the bottle. "Truth or dare?"

I clutched the bottle, feeling its weight like a weapon or a shield. "Dare."

Juliana's eyes gleamed in the firelight. "I dare you to show us all exactly how you'd survive if Tommy ever left you."

The forest seemed to hold its breath around us, waiting for what would come next.