Chapter 8

Tristan left with his shoulders slumped.

The old family home, though renovated over the years, still bore the wear of countless winters and the weight of my mother's hardships. She embraced me tightly, her voice shaking as she cursed, "That wretched man! Had I known he'd turn out this way, I'd never have let you marry him!"

Back then, I'd been so determined to marry Tristan. I chose the wrong path; it was my decision, my mistake. None of us could've imagined that the bright-eyed young man from years ago would become a stranger.

I chose my words carefully. "Mom, I'm going to start divorce proceedings."

She froze, taking a moment before she replied. "Good."

She placed a gentle hand on my stomach, and tears, heavy as raindrops, fell onto my hand. "My poor Emily, you've suffered so much. Divorce him. You must."

"Don't worry. I have my pension funds. Even if you get a divorce, we'll manage just fine together," she added

The one I loved had never truly cared for me, but the one