Initially, I defended Skyla.
Eventually, though, their warnings began influencing my thoughts.
She’d never requested money.
Was that because she genuinely didn’t want it?
Or had she figured out that asking would make me suspicious?
Once those doubts appeared, I started questioning ordinary gestures.
When she prepared dinner at my apartment, I wondered whether she was trying to impress me.
When she remembered an important meeting, I questioned whether she was deliberately keeping me happy.
One evening, she arrived carrying her unreliable laptop. Its screen flickered whenever she moved it.
“Let me buy you a new one,” I said.
“No, thanks. I’ve got a repair appointment.”
“Skyla, I can afford it.”
“It’s okay, baby.”
“Then why won’t you let me?”
She raised her eyes.
“Because I can handle this.”
I should’ve respected her answer.
Instead, my father’s warning echoed through my mind.
A week later, I devised the worst plan of my life.
