ia's

t day*

ile tea mingled with the faint scent of lavender from the candles I had lit earlier. My son, Mark, was fast

n my body had long healed, the scars on my soul remained. I had create

too quiet, my mind wandered back to that tim

e memories away. Life was different now. I had survived. I had bu

hattered the tranquility. My heart jumped, the old instincts kicking in. Fear pr

t have many visitors, and I had made

her

ng. "Who is it?" I called out,

ans

ing the edge of the table for support. I peer

uldn'

open, and there

ly styled hair was streaked with gray, tied back into a loose ponytail. She stood with

voice trembling. "Plea

et since the night I left Richard. She had been his

oing here? How

anaged, my

said, her eyes darting to the

log

er and sharp. Margaret was the last person I expected to

g to talk about," I said, my h

breaking. "I've carried this guilt for si

or in her face and letting her speak. Aga

said, gesturing f

was afraid I might change my mind. She glanced around the r

eautiful home,"

to say," I replie

knew what Richard was doing to you. I saw the bruises, the fear in your eyes. And I did n

n the air, heavy

mbling. "But I wasn't. Richard's temper turned on me after you left. He blam

hat I had endured. But another part of me-the part that had spent years trying to heal-felt a flicker of something I couldn't

oice flat. "It's been six years.

o happen. I wanted to reach out to you, but I didn't know where you were. I've been searching, Amelia. And now that I've fo

. This woman had watched as I was beaten, humiliated, and broken. She ha

e wanted f

with anger. "Do you know what it's like to feel trapped, to know that the

ter you left, I lived it. Richard's rage didn't stop with you, A

hit you?"

ence wa

filled with nothing but t

undo what I did. I can't take away the pain I caused

"You can't just show up here and expect everyt

e your forgiveness. But please... if there's anyth

d racing. Could I trust

the sound of Mark's voic

um

ame bathed in the warm light of the room. His sleepy eyes

clutching the stuffed be

expression softened. "Is this.....my grandson?" she a

tectively. "You don't get to a

odded, stepping back. "

hand. "Mummy, can

t," I said gently. "I'll b

to his room, leaving Mar

I know I failed you. I know I hurt you. But let me help you

t get to decide that," I snapped. "You didn't care about my life when I

wn her face, but

ks," I continued, my voice shaking with rage. "You chose Richard over me. Yo

. "You're right," she whispered. "I have no right to ask for

to slam the door and never see her again. But another part of me-the p

tense silence. I turned toward the window, my st

ne?" Margaret asked, her

id, my hea

and heavy footsteps

king through the curtains. My breath caught when I

n't Ri

eone I hadn't

thought I

he saw the color drain from

from the window

" I lied, my v

ud and insistent, echoing th

as, they wer