Then I picked up the bank card.
And I hid it.
Not because I needed the money.
Because I couldn’t bear the humiliation.
I placed it inside an old butter-cookie tin above the stove and promised myself I would never use it.
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Then I picked up the bank card.
And I hid it.
Not because I needed the money.
Because I couldn’t bear the humiliation.
I placed it inside an old butter-cookie tin above the stove and promised myself I would never use it.
“You’re my girlfriend, not my wife.” Jenna knocked softly on the door, and I let her in, my heart still heavy from Marcus's words.…