Nasya's POV
The mechanical whirr of silent cameras and sudden bursts of flash photography filled the opulent ballroom.
"I, Zayn King, reject you, Penelope Woods, as my mate!"
His words struck like a physical blow. The tears streaming down my face transformed in an instant - no longer tears of grief, but pure physiological reaction to the searing pain that erupted through every nerve ending. It felt as though invisible claws were tearing through my chest, shredding muscle and sinew with methodical cruelty. My heartbeat stuttered erratically, each faltering pulse sending fresh waves of agony through my ravaged body.
I was dying in silent screaming.
So this is what it feels like.
Even without a mating mark, rejection could hollow me out like this.
