Dramatic

Harry Hendrix pov:

I stood by the window, looking down at the scene unfolding. The rain hit her hard, soaking her from head to toe. I couldn't help but watch as she stood there, clearly furious. It almost made me laugh, but I knew I should save my amusement for later. This was only the beginning.

I cracked the window open, the rain pouring harder now.

"Are you going to stand there all night like a drenched chicken, or come inside?" I called out, my voice tinged with annoyance, though I couldn't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction.

She glared up at me, her face scrunched in frustration.

"You locked the door. How’d you expect me to get inside?" she yelled, her tone sharp, like she was daring me to argue back.

I sighed, then walked away from the window. "You can come in. I think the rain's punished you enough."

I could hear her footsteps as she hurried to the door.

I peeled off my tuxedo, frustration building up. This whole thing is a fucking mess. I mean, sure, I had a past criminal ties, a reputation that made most women run the other way. But her? She agreed to marry me. Did she not know who I was? Probably not. She had to be new around here. She had no idea what she was getting into.

I turned my back to the door, my shirt hanging loose, when I heard it creak open behind me. My muscles tensed, ready for whatever came next.

There she was, standing there, hair wet, dress soaked, and somehow, she didn’t look so savage anymore.

"Can't you knock? Or do you not respect people's privacy?" I shot at her, my words sharp, cutting through the tension in the room.

She opened her mouth to respond, but I stepped in, pinning her to the wall, my hand quickly covering her mouth. "Sshh," I muttered.

Her eyes went wide, and I could see the fear creeping in. Of course, she was scared. Here I was, towering over her, shirtless with tattoos sprawled across my body. It probably wasn’t what she expected when she agreed to this mess.

I gripped her arms, forcing her still. "Don't you dare speak!" I growled, my voice low and sharp. "This is my house, and you’ll do as I say." She trembled slightly under my touch, but I wasn’t letting go.

The moment her tears hit me, something in me snapped. It was like a punch to the gut it was familiar and painful. Her fear echoed in my mind, and it hit me harder than I expected. The way she looked at me, her eyes wide with that mix of hurt and confusion, reminded me of a memory I had buried deep.

I saw it again the image of my father pinning my mother down. The way she cried, the helplessness in her face. That memory stung more than I cared to admit.

I stepped back, letting her go, as if she'd burned me. I didn’t want to be that person.

I never wanted to be like my father. Yet here I was, making the same mistakes.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice quieter now, as I fought to shove down the growing guilt. But the damage had been done.

I turned away, not bothering to glance at her.

“You can leave now,” I muttered, my voice flat, like it didn’t matter whether she stayed or went.

I could feel her hesitation in the air, but I didn’t care. Not anymore.

“Your mom asked us to stay together!” She said, her eyes wide with shock.

“And I don't want you here,” I said, shoving her through the door.

“Fine! I’ll leave,” she said, stepping out. I didn’t care where she went after that.

I grabbed my phone from the stand and dialed Sasha’s number again. A hundredth time, maybe more. Every call went straight to voicemail. She hadn’t picked up since I got out of jail. Sasha my first love, the one I’d promised everything to. We were supposed to get married before everything fell apart. The crime, the jail time everything happened because of her, but she turned her back on me. If she’d just stayed, answered one call, maybe none of this would’ve happened. I wouldn’t be stuck here with this savage, rude girl.

I couldn’t even get a glimpse of her anymore. Sasha had blocked me on every social media platform, and when I tried showing up at her place, the security guards wouldn’t let me anywhere near her. It felt like I was invisible, like I never mattered.

I ran my hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up inside me. Why? What had happened? Everything was fine until I went to jail. We had plans we were going to get married. Then she vanished.

I checked my phone again. Nothing new. Just the same voicemail, the same unanswered texts. A hundred calls, and not a single word from her.

Her family had cut ties too. Her mother, once like a second mom to me, wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence when I showed up at their doorstep.

Did she hate me that much now? The crime I committed—for her—was the reason I was stuck in this hell. I tried to make up for it, to prove I’d changed. But what actually mattered if she couldn’t see it?

She wasn’t picking up.

It’s like the Sasha I knew, the one who used to laugh with me, kiss me without hesitation, and make future plans, had completely disappeared. And what was left? Just a savage, rude girl I was stuck with now. She wasn’t Sasha. She wasn’t the woman I had built my life around. I had nothing left but this mess.

I looked at the phone one last time, feeling the weight of all the unanswered calls. Maybe some things are just meant to stay broken. She had broken me real bad, and she would pay for it.