The Year She Stopped Being Crazy for Him novel Chapter 82

That naive version of Natalie had died the night she was kidnapped.

She would never believe another word Hassan said.

All she wanted was to escape him as quickly as possible and never see him again for the rest of her life.

The man's lips trailed down to the back of her neck, pressing a kiss against the small red birthmark there.

He pinned one of her hands behind her back with ease.

She no longer had the strength to fight him. Her voice was raspy and faint. "Don't you feel disgusted?"

He paused. "I don't."

Natalie only felt sick to her stomach. How could he always act as if nothing had happened? How could he still want to sleep with her now?

But she lacked the physical strength to push him away.

With a wave of self-loathing, she thought, *Whatever.*

Hassan grasped her hand, tracing the pad of his thumb across her palm.

Natalie refused to give him any response.

Yet, infuriatingly, her body was far too familiar with him.

It barely took any foreplay for her bones to melt into mush.

Gritting her teeth, she forced out, "Are you changing your mind about the divorce?"

"You'd better keep your mouth shut right now," he warned.

Natalie let out a bitter scoff. "You tell me to shut up, and I'm just supposed to shut up? Am I supposed to obey your every command, Hassan?"

He looked down at her, a sudden, dark smile curving his lips. "What else? Why do you think I married you? It was exactly because you were obedient."

Natalie's entire body turned to ice. Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "So that was the reason. What a shame. It's a shame that I no longer want to listen to you. I don't just blindly obey anyone."

She used to listen to him and accommodate his every whim simply because she loved him. Now that the love was gone, she was revoking every single privilege he had over her.

When he reached over to open the nightstand drawer, Natalie turned, trying to slip out of bed, but he caught her and pressed her back into the pillows.

Gritting her teeth, Natalie stared at the packet in his hand and spat viciously, "Cecily had someone poke holes in every single one of those. Are you really going to risk it?"

Hassan sat on the bed, staring at the huddled lump beneath the covers.

Natalie rarely cried.

When she was little, she used to be mischievous and climb trees. Even when she fell, she wouldn't cry. She would just obediently go grab a bandage and hand it to him, asking him to patch her up.

This was the first time he had ever seen her cry like this—so completely broken and wronged.

"What exactly are you feeling so wronged about?" His calm voice delivered the chilling words. "What are you crying for?"

"Can't I cry? Am I not even allowed to cry anymore?" She threw the blanket off and stared at the man in front of her, her eyes completely devoid of hope.

What kind of monster had she married?

She could tell Hassan wasn't in a good headspace either.

But whatever was bothering him had nothing to do with her.

The man said nothing more. He just lay back down.