90

I find myself haunted by the ghosts of irreversible mistakes. Edwina's pain, a weight too heavy for my shoulders, lingers in the air like a tangible sorrow. It's heartbreaking that I cannot undo the loss of her parents or the scars placed on her tender heart.

The gravity of my shortcomings becomes painfully apparent as I reflect on the years gone by. Edwina, with vulnerability in her eyes, sought solace in my presence. She trusted me with the fragments of her shattered world, only to receive my misplaced fury in return. I was blind to the genuine need for comfort that she extended to me.

Now, with clarity, I see the wreckage of my life. For three years, I've been living a lie, channeling my rage into the wrong avenues, misled by the venomous words of others. The loss of my mother, a tragedy that scarred my soul, became a breeding ground for resentment, clouding my judgment and leading me astray.

Edwina's heart, once a delicate flower, now bears the weight of my transgression