Old Wounds

POV: Zina

The knock at the door wasn't surprising; I'd been expecting a delivery. Asher's new schoolbooks had been delayed for days, and I had spent the morning waiting to sign for them. But when I opened the door, my stomach clenched.

Standing there, dressed as though she'd stepped out of a fashion magazine, was Trina.

And she hasn't changed a bit.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Her sharp cheekbones and meticulously styled hair glistened in the sunlight. Her lips were painted a bright red, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses that she slowly removed, revealing a piercing stare.

"Zina." Her voice was sugary but laced with badly hidden spite.

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the woman who thought stealing my husband was a promotion. I see you have removed the devil's thorns on your head."

Her painted lips twitched into a tight smile. "I see you haven't changed."