Rachael’s world tilted as she stared at Victor, memories flooding back with a vengeance, hitting her like a ray of light.
She could still remember that day—the sterile scent of the hospital room, the ache in her heart, and the cold, empty spot beside her where Victor was supposed to be.
He hadn’t even bothered to stay; he’d walked out as if she were nothing, as if their son meant nothing.
The pain of his betrayal was still fresh, festering like an open wound that had never quite healed.
Rachael’s mind spun back to that fateful day: the tears she had shed, begging him not to leave, the way he had brushed her off with a callous indifference that cut deeper than any physical wound.
And then the cruelest blow—the image of Victor tangled with Evelyn in their bed, her moans echoing lik
