On the floor beside the bedstand, Asher sat quietly, lost in thought.
His mind was consumed by everything that had happened. Harlan was dead, and the possibility that he might be next haunted him relentlessly. The fear gnawed at him from the inside, making it impossible to think clearly.
"This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I never thought my life would turn out this way."
Of course, nobody could predict the future, but this... this felt like hell.
There was nothing heavenly about the life he was living now. It was terror wrapped in uncertainty, and Xavier's behavior downstairs had only made things worse. Yet that wasn't even what upset him the most.
The part that hurt was that Xavier hadn't come after him.
"Maybe I'm being too much in this marriage. Maybe he doesn't want it as badly as I do, and I'm just pushing too hard."
The words left his lips in a weak murmur.
Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit him.
His head pounded violently, and for a moment he felt like throwing up.
