MARIELLA

Knox walks into his room, pissed. I see him startle when he slams the door shut and he sees me folding his clothes. “Ella, what are you doing here?”

Right, what am I doing here? But I could think of several questions to ask him like why did he meet her today?

He smells like her, and even though we've been together for years, he hasn't moved me into his bedroom. “What happened?” I frown, studying him.

His clothes have a few blood stains on them but I don't smell alcohol on ...