I straighten up, regain a tiny ounce of composure and try to act like being caught half-drowned while sheltering unwantedly in a plush pad is utterly normal for me. Not out of place or sick at all. Despite how our last encounter played out and how much of my heart and soul he has destroyed with his toxic self in the previous few months, my heart still somersaults at the sight of him, and my eyes hone in on the woman in searing jealousy that bites harder than my cough. She doesn’t look ...