Page 21 of Undone

“You’re lying,” I said, though my voice faltered.

He was quiet, apologetic even, when he answered. “I wish I was.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head forcefully. “No, you’re wrong. He’s… he’s not…” My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms.

“I don’t have the details,” he added. “But I know that’s why they questioned you. They think he’s involved. I’m not supposed to tell you, but you deserve to know the truth.”

Things with John had been rough for a while. I knew that. But this? This wasn’t what I’d expected.

It wasn’t that I thought he was perfect. Far from it.

Our relationship had always been a delicate balance—comfortable enough to enjoy our independence but still seeking each other’s company when we needed it.

I convinced myself that was enough.

I believed he was a good person.

But now? I wasn’t sure.

I knew his flaws—his temper, his distance. The times he zoned out.

He’d said everything was fine. Work was just taking over. I’d believed him.

But now… my stomach twisted.

Moments rushed back. Things I’d thought little of.

The way his moods shifted after work trips. Calm to restless.

Like wearing his shoes inside—a strict rule he followed religiously, except after those trips, when he’d casually leave them on as if it didn’t matter anymore. As if he was… letting go.

And I’d let it go too, assuming he was decompressing.

But then—his temper. Snapping over nothing. A casual word. A small mistake.

And it always came back to one thing.

Me not traveling with him enough.

I’d gone when I could. Summer breaks, holidays. But he pushed and pushed and pushed.

Why? Why did it matter so much? Was he trying to keep me close? Distract me from whatever darkness was inside him?

“I can’t… how is this possible?” The words seething out, too hot, too fast. I didn’t want to believe it, but the frustration welled up, burning through me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained. “I can’t let you stand here comforting me when there’s something you deserve to know—something no one’s told you,” he said, but it barely registered over the pulse filling my ears.

“No,” I repeated, as if saying it loud enough could push the nightmare away. I was supposed to be focused on Dotty, not caught up in the disaster of my own life. “This doesn’t make sense. This… this is wrong,” I seethed.

He didn’t back away, though. He stayed right there, his gaze resolute, letting me work through the mess of emotions tumbling out. I glared at him, even though I knew he wasn’t the one I was angry at.

“How the fuck is this possible?” I bit out. “No.No. There’s no way. How? How the fuck is this actually my life?”

His hands landed on my shoulders, steadying me as I fought to breathe. I felt his touch pulling me into the present moment. But my mind was reeling. I wanted to pull away, to push him off, as if distance could erase what he’d said, but my body didn’t move. Instead, I leaned in.

Dorian’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. He simply stood there, letting me fume. “I wish I had the answers…”

“What the hell even is the answer to this? You’re telling me my boyfriend has been killing people? Fucking murdering them and pretending like nothing happened?” I let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t expect you to have all the answers. You have your own shit going on right now. But I can’t… I can’t do this. I can’t deal with this right now.”

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