"You don't know what you're saying, Carmela. What about me?"
Nestor’s words from the other end of the line cut through Carmela's heart like a dagger. The pain in his voice was unmistakable, and she couldn't blame him. After all, she was carrying his child, the reason for the desperation and hysteria laced in his tone.
"This is what's best for your child and me. Besides, it's better this way. It’s best if we don’t see each other again so you can forget about me," Carmela forced herself to say, though deep down, she didn’t want to. But she knew it was the right thing to do, or perhaps, it was simply the easiest way out.
Carmela was thankful to have met Nestor. He had taught her what it felt like to love and be loved. But she knew, deep down, that what they were doing was wrong, especiall
