“You act like you’re content. Like you’ve got it all figured out. The steady job, the loyal boyfriend, the safe little life. But deep down?” He leans in, eyes flashing. “You’re fucking starving. For more. For someone to see you. For someone to take you seriously when you stop pretending you want this kind of life.” I tense, but I don’t look away. “You’ve been taught to accept less,” he murmurs. “To settle for whatever scraps people give you and call it love. But you don’t want scraps, do you, Ari? You never did. You just never thought you could ask for more.” I frown. “I’m not—” “You do.
...more
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
