He was returning to the library, the sound of his shoes, muffled against the carpeted floor seemed like the tolling of a funeral bell. Or perhaps it wasn't his boots at all, but the pathetic, fast beating of my own heart as he moved closer.

I was still shaking, tears streaking down my cheeks as a wave of sickening humiliation washed over me. If he walked in now, he would find me like this: a broken creature grovelling on the floor. To see a woman ready to beg for his affection, to see me beg ...