|Theodore|
My chest tightened—slow, suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe—as the scene unfolded before me in agonizing clarity.
Carmella looked at Jeremiah—not me, not the man she had just spent days with, laughing and dreaming about the nursery, choosing crib designs, arguing over pastel versus earthy tones. No, she looked at him.
We just spent the last week wrapped in my arms, pressing kisses to my lips, talking about the kind of lullabies she'd sing to our child. She'd laughed with me, fallen asleep on my chest, smiled like she was home.
And now?
My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into the flesh of my palms. I barely felt the sting, too consumed by the storm brewing under my skin. Rage pulsed hot through my veins, but beneath it—deeper, heavier—was pain.
Ra
