Page 5 of Glass Jawed
The door creaks open and I’m airborne.
Timthrowsme. Literally throws me off the bed.
I land hard on my right hip, the carpet biting into my skin through the impact. “Fuck!” I gasp, clutching my side as the burn blooms sharp and hot.
Hair falls in my face. I shove my hair away and look up—and freeze.
There’s a man in the doorway.
No—there’s a storm in the doorway.
TWO
Aarohi
This man is tall. Massive. Fury etched into every line of his face as he takes in the scene before him. His shoulders look like they could tear through the walls. His whole body vibrates with something feral. Something cold.
Tim is already off the bed, scrambling for the sheets, for words.
I don’t need the confirmation.
I already know.
Tim is involved.
Tim istaken.
Tim fucking lied.
I asked him. I fucking asked him if he was single. This son of a bitch looked me in the eye and said yes.
Anger rushes through me, hot and rising, shaking my limbs. I’m about to unleash all of it when—
The man looks at me.
Not like I’m a person. Like I’m something filthy. Like I’m... disposable.
His eyes sweep over me—over my bare chest, my naked legs—and all that heat drains from me in one brutal swoop. Because I know that look. I’ve seen it before. In boys at school. In relatives who thought my weight was a family disgrace. In the mirror, when I hated myself the most.
I scramble for the blanket, but it’s like I’ve already been seen, already judged, already discarded.
Tim’s trying to speak, but it’s useless. The man’s gaze snaps back to him—his face carved in betrayal, rage, and heartbreak.
Tim’s dick is softening fast under the weight of that disgusted stare. He’s pale. Mouth trembling. Tears welling.
But the worst part?
The disgust doesn’t stay on Tim.
It lands back on me and lingers.
Like I’m the one who ruined something sacred.
Like my body is the offense.
My whole body. Every inch of me. Laid out like a mistake.
And for the first time in years, I feel small.
