Aria’s POV.
His grip on my wrist was unrelenting, his fingers digging into my skin as he yanked me closer. The sudden force stole my breath, and I stumbled forward, my free hand instinctively pressing against his chest to create some distance. “Zander, let go!” I snapped, my voice sharp with anger, but he didn’t even flinch.
Before I could push him away, he leaned down, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that wasn’t a kiss-it was a declaration of control. It was rough, wild, and filled with anger. I gasped against his mouth, my hands shoving against him, but it was like trying to move a wall. He didn’t care. He didn’t stop.
I struggled, my heart pounding in my chest-not from desire, but from the sheer intensity of it all. He wasn’t kissing me because he loved me; he was kissing me because he wanted to remind me that I was his.
When he finally pulled back, I was left breathless, my chest heaving as I stared up at him in shock. My lips felt bruised, and my wrist throbbed where he’d been holding it. His dark eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver through me, but it wasn’t fear-it was anger.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, my voice trembling as I yanked my wrist free from his grip. I cradled it against my chest, my skin still tingling from where his fingers had held me.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glared down at me, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles twitching. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and cold, dripping with possessiveness. “You’re my wife,” he growled, the words sharp and deliberate. “Mine. Do you understand me? Whoever sent you those messages-whoever thinks they can have you-they’re wrong. You belong to me.”
I blinked, my mind racing to keep up with what was happening. Was he serious? Was this really happening? My anger flared to life, burning through the initial shock. “I don’t ‘belong’ to anyone,” I spat back, my voice rising. “And you don’t get to act like this-you don’t get to treat me like some kind of… possession!”
But he didn’t seem to care. His eyes flicked away from me, and before I could say another word, he turned and grabbed my phone from the counter where it had been sitting.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, following after him as he strode toward the toilet. My stomach twisted with unease as he lifted the lid, my brain struggling to process what was about to happen. “Zander, don’t you dare-”
But he did.
The phone hit the water with a loud splash, sinking to the bottom of the toilet bowl. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at it in disbelief. My heart raced, and my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
“Are you insane?!” I screamed, my voice echoing off the bathroom walls. I pushed past him, reaching for the toilet, but the water was murky now, and I knew it was too late. My phone was ruined.
“You don’t need it,” he said coldly, his tone like ice. He turned to face me, his expression hard and unyielding. “If someone wants to talk to you, they can go through me. From now on, no one gets to you without going through me first.”
I stared at him, my chest heaving with anger and disbelief. “You’re out of your mind,” I snapped, my voice trembling. “You think this is protection? You think throwing my phone in the toilet is going to fix anything?! This isn’t about me, Zander-this is about you and your need to control everything!”
His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening even more. “This is about keeping you safe,” he said, his voice deliberate and calm in a way that only made me angrier. “Someone is watching you. Someone thinks they can take you from me. I won’t let that happen.”
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as tears of frustration stung my eyes. “Safe?” I repeated, my voice breaking. “This has nothing to do with safety, and you know it. This is about you being so insecure that you can’t handle the thought of someone else looking at me. You don’t care how I feel-you only care about your pride.”
His face twisted, just for a moment, as if my words had hit a nerve. But he didn’t apologize. He didn’t back down. Instead, he just stared at me, his silence louder than any argument he could have made.
I took a step closer, my hands shaking with anger. “You don’t get to do this to me, Zander,” I said, my voice low and trembling. “You don’t get to take away my choices, my voice, my freedom. I’m your wife, not your prisoner.”
Still, he said nothing. He just stood there, his dark eyes locked onto mine, his expression unreadable.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, turning away from him. My hands were still shaking as I pressed them to my face, trying to steady my breathing. “You think this makes you strong? All it does is prove how weak you are.”
He didn’t respond. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t even try to explain himself. Instead, he turned and walked out, leaving me standing there in the middle of the bathroom, wet, angry, and heartbroken.
“Zander!” I yelled after him, my voice cracking as I called his name. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t look back.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the door he’d just walked through. My chest felt tight, my throat burning with unshed tears. The anger I felt was overwhelming, but underneath it, buried deep where I didn’t want to acknowledge it, was something far worse.
Hurt.
Because for all his words, for all his actions, it wasn’t love that had driven him tonight. It was control. And I didn’t know if I could forgive him for that.