Caroline's Point of ViewI don’t expect to find them like this.I’m coming back from the nurse’s station with a warm cup of tea in hand—Adrian’s favorite blend—when I turn the corner and freeze at the doorway to his hospital room.The lights are dimmed. The sterile white of the walls doesn’t bother me today, not when I see the softest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on: Liam sitting beside Adrian in the reclining chair, a picture book opened between them. Adrian’s voice is quiet but clear, reading out loud with calm cadence, pausing for Liam to fill in the next word.Liam’s fingers trace the illustrations. He’s completely focused, not wiggling or distracted the way he usually is.I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. I don’t want to break the moment.“‘And the little fox curled up next to his mama…’” Adrian says gently. “You know the next part?”Liam nods eagerly. “‘Because he was home. Safe and warm.’”“Yeah,” Adrian whispers. “Exactly.”My chest tightens.The paper cup in my hand feels hot.
Knoxx's Point of ViewThe bottle is half-empty, and the silence in my apartment is too loud. I sit on the couch, staring at nothing. The TV is off. My phone is face down. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t slept much either, unless you count the few hours I passed out on the bathroom floor last night after another round of drinking.I don't know how many nights it's been like this now.I pick up the bottle again. My hand shakes slightly, and I pretend not to notice.She doesn’t love me.That thought—raw, sharp—keeps cutting deeper every time it returns. I tell myself I’m angry. I tell myself she was manipulated. I tell myself it was Adrian’s fault.But I know the truth.She doesn’t love me.Not anymore. Maybe she never really did. Maybe she just wanted to believe I could be someone worth loving.I failed her.“Where the hell did I go wrong?” I mutter to no one.I slam the bottle down too hard on the table, and it cracks slightly near the base. I glare at it like it's to blame.The door swings
Caroline's Point of ViewThe air still smells like antiseptic and cold metal, but somehow, it feels warmer today. Maybe it’s because he’s sitting up now. Alive. Awake. Breathing.Adrian’s hoodie is half-zipped as he moves slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid to tear open anything that’s finally starting to heal. The nurses said he’s stable enough to go home—as long as someone stays with him.I didn’t hesitate.“I’ll take him,” I told them.Because there’s nowhere else he belongs. Not right now.I’m standing by his bed, arms crossed like a wall between myself and all the things I’m feeling. He looks up at me as he adjusts the hoodie. His movements are still weak, but steadier than they were days ago.“You sure you’re okay to leave?” I ask f
Knoxx’s Point of ViewIt’s too quiet in the house.I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in my daughter’s room—our daughter’s room—watching her sleep. Eight years old, but still small in ways that remind me how fragile everything is. She clutches the worn-out stuffed bear Dolly gave her on her third birthday. The same one she wouldn't let go of even when she had the flu and cried through the night.I’ve been checking on her more often. Staying longer than I need to. Not because she asks—she rarely does—but because I don’t know what else to do with myself anymore.“Hey, sweetheart,” I whisper, brushing a loose curl from her forehead. “It’s just you and me now.”She doesn’t stir. Just turns her face toward the wall.I lean back against the bedpost, hands tangled together, eyes fixed on the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner. I should feel
Caroline's Point of ViewI don’t want to care.But I do.Even after everything. Even after the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation—I still feel that tightening in my chest, that flicker of something I wish I could suffocate. It's not love. It’s not hope. It’s not even hate. It’s a stubborn wound that hasn’t closed properly.The front door creaks. I know the rhythm of those steps. Penelope.I stay where I am, on the couch, a notebook open on my lap. I haven’t written anything meaningful in it all day. Just scribbles. Doodles. Adrian’s name in cursive, printed, tiny in the margins like some foolish girl trying to anchor herself in something good.“You’re not watching the news?” Penelope’s voice is soft, but it cuts through the silence anyway.I look up. Her face says everything before her words do—tense, unreadable.“No,” I say, sharper tha
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit on the floor of my bedroom with my phone in my hand and a heavy ache in my chest. The house is quiet. The twins are with Adrian in the kitchen, drawing on the table with their markers. I told him I needed a few minutes alone. He didn’t ask why—just kissed my cheek and said he’d keep them busy.I stare down at my screen, at the endless thread of messages.Knoxx: I’ll be late tonight. Again.Knoxx: She’s just here for the baby, Caroline. Don’t make a big deal out of it.Knoxx: I’m tired. Can we not do this tonight?Knoxx: I didn’t mean it like that.Knoxx: You’re overthinking. Like always.Each one feels like a scratch on glass. Small, sharp, building toward something that eventually shattered me.I scroll up, past the excuses, past the cold replies, past the silence.Until I reach the older ones.Knoxx: Can’t sto
Caroline’s Point of ViewMy husband’s first love ruins our third year anniversary.I’m sitting by the window of a fancy restaurant, nervously waiting for Knoxx, my husband. I dress up in my favorite black dress. It’s been three years of marriage—three years of hoping, waiting for the man I love to finally see me, to finally understand that I’m more than just a wife of convenience. That it is not all about the arranged marriage.I fiddle with the napkin in my lap, glancing at the clock, watching as each minute crawls by. Any moment now, Knoxx will walk through the door.Tonight feels different. Tonight, I feel like something is going to change.I had seen the headlines earlier this week:[Wayne Corp Heir Spends Fortune on Rare Ruby Necklace—A Gift for Someone Special!]"Someone special." Those two words have been ringing in my head ever since I read them. Who is more important to him than me, his wife?After all the distance between us, the missed anniversaries, the cold silences… perha
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit there, frozen, still reeling from the words that left Knoxx’s mouth just moments ago.“Didn’t you marry me for the money?”The question loops in my mind like a broken record, leaving behind a sting I can’t shake. Did Knoxx always think that? That I only wanted his wealth? That I had trapped him in this marriage? The weight of the accusation presses down on me, suffocating in its cruelty."Is that really what you believe?" I ask quietly, my voice barely audible as I look at him. "That I married you for the money? That I forced you into this?"Knoxx's expression is unreadable, the same cold mask he always wears, but there's a flicker in his eyes—something dark, something cruel. He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he picks up my half-finished glass of wine from the table and takes a slow sip. The silence stretches between us, heavy and unbearable.“You don’t love me,” he finally says, setting the empty glass down with a soft clink that echoes in the qui
Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit on the floor of my bedroom with my phone in my hand and a heavy ache in my chest. The house is quiet. The twins are with Adrian in the kitchen, drawing on the table with their markers. I told him I needed a few minutes alone. He didn’t ask why—just kissed my cheek and said he’d keep them busy.I stare down at my screen, at the endless thread of messages.Knoxx: I’ll be late tonight. Again.Knoxx: She’s just here for the baby, Caroline. Don’t make a big deal out of it.Knoxx: I’m tired. Can we not do this tonight?Knoxx: I didn’t mean it like that.Knoxx: You’re overthinking. Like always.Each one feels like a scratch on glass. Small, sharp, building toward something that eventually shattered me.I scroll up, past the excuses, past the cold replies, past the silence.Until I reach the older ones.Knoxx: Can’t sto
Caroline's Point of ViewI don’t want to care.But I do.Even after everything. Even after the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation—I still feel that tightening in my chest, that flicker of something I wish I could suffocate. It's not love. It’s not hope. It’s not even hate. It’s a stubborn wound that hasn’t closed properly.The front door creaks. I know the rhythm of those steps. Penelope.I stay where I am, on the couch, a notebook open on my lap. I haven’t written anything meaningful in it all day. Just scribbles. Doodles. Adrian’s name in cursive, printed, tiny in the margins like some foolish girl trying to anchor herself in something good.“You’re not watching the news?” Penelope’s voice is soft, but it cuts through the silence anyway.I look up. Her face says everything before her words do—tense, unreadable.“No,” I say, sharper tha
Knoxx’s Point of ViewIt’s too quiet in the house.I’m sitting on the edge of the bed in my daughter’s room—our daughter’s room—watching her sleep. Eight years old, but still small in ways that remind me how fragile everything is. She clutches the worn-out stuffed bear Dolly gave her on her third birthday. The same one she wouldn't let go of even when she had the flu and cried through the night.I’ve been checking on her more often. Staying longer than I need to. Not because she asks—she rarely does—but because I don’t know what else to do with myself anymore.“Hey, sweetheart,” I whisper, brushing a loose curl from her forehead. “It’s just you and me now.”She doesn’t stir. Just turns her face toward the wall.I lean back against the bedpost, hands tangled together, eyes fixed on the soft glow of the nightlight in the corner. I should feel
Caroline's Point of ViewThe air still smells like antiseptic and cold metal, but somehow, it feels warmer today. Maybe it’s because he’s sitting up now. Alive. Awake. Breathing.Adrian’s hoodie is half-zipped as he moves slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid to tear open anything that’s finally starting to heal. The nurses said he’s stable enough to go home—as long as someone stays with him.I didn’t hesitate.“I’ll take him,” I told them.Because there’s nowhere else he belongs. Not right now.I’m standing by his bed, arms crossed like a wall between myself and all the things I’m feeling. He looks up at me as he adjusts the hoodie. His movements are still weak, but steadier than they were days ago.“You sure you’re okay to leave?” I ask f
Knoxx's Point of ViewThe bottle is half-empty, and the silence in my apartment is too loud. I sit on the couch, staring at nothing. The TV is off. My phone is face down. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t slept much either, unless you count the few hours I passed out on the bathroom floor last night after another round of drinking.I don't know how many nights it's been like this now.I pick up the bottle again. My hand shakes slightly, and I pretend not to notice.She doesn’t love me.That thought—raw, sharp—keeps cutting deeper every time it returns. I tell myself I’m angry. I tell myself she was manipulated. I tell myself it was Adrian’s fault.But I know the truth.She doesn’t love me.Not anymore. Maybe she never really did. Maybe she just wanted to believe I could be someone worth loving.I failed her.“Where the hell did I go wrong?” I mutter to no one.I slam the bottle down too hard on the table, and it cracks slightly near the base. I glare at it like it's to blame.The door swings
Caroline's Point of ViewI don’t expect to find them like this.I’m coming back from the nurse’s station with a warm cup of tea in hand—Adrian’s favorite blend—when I turn the corner and freeze at the doorway to his hospital room.The lights are dimmed. The sterile white of the walls doesn’t bother me today, not when I see the softest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on: Liam sitting beside Adrian in the reclining chair, a picture book opened between them. Adrian’s voice is quiet but clear, reading out loud with calm cadence, pausing for Liam to fill in the next word.Liam’s fingers trace the illustrations. He’s completely focused, not wiggling or distracted the way he usually is.I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. I don’t want to break the moment.“‘And the little fox curled up next to his mama…’” Adrian says gently. “You know the next part?”Liam nods eagerly. “‘Because he was home. Safe and warm.’”“Yeah,” Adrian whispers. “Exactly.”My chest tightens.The paper cup in my hand feels hot.
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe hospital halls are quieter than usual this afternoon. Adrian is still asleep when I come back from the nurse’s station, where I asked for his updated chart. He’s stable. Recovering well, they said. But even if they didn’t, I think I would’ve stayed right here anyway. I sink into the chair beside his bed and fold his blanket higher on his chest. His breathing is slow, steady. Peaceful.I don’t know how long I just sit there staring at him. Watching his fingers twitch slightly in his sleep. I’ve memorized every line of his face these past few days, every scar and freckle, every soft crease that forms when he dreams. Sometimes, I wonder what he dreams about. Does he know I’m here?There’s no schedule in my head anymore. No outside world. No thoughts of work, the shop, or anything else. Just this room. Just him.The door clicks open behind me.I don’t need to look to know it’s Knoxx. The air shifts the moment he walks in—thick with that same tension that’s bee
Penelope's Point of ViewI knock on Liam’s door, glancing at the time on my phone. Caroline’s still at the hospital, taking care of Adrian. I offered to drop by the house and help with Liam since I know her hands are full. Plus, I miss the kid. There’s something about Liam’s energy that makes everything feel lighter.The door opens, and the nanny greets me with a smile. “Hi, Ms. Penelope. Liam’s inside drawing. He’s been asking if you’re coming.”My chest warms. “Good. I brought snacks.”I head inside, dropping my bag by the counter before walking into the living room. Liam is sitting cross-legged on the rug, his little hand moving crayons across a piece of paper. He looks up and beams when he sees me.“Penny!” he says, jumping to his feet and running to hug me.I kneel to catch him. “Hey, bud. You missed me?”He nods. “Mama’s busy. Daddy is sick. But I made drawings.”“I can’t wait to see them.”He pulls me by the hand, dragging me to the living room floor. I sit down beside him as h
Caroline’s Point of ViewKnoxx is standing in front of me again. Same expensive suit. Same arrogant posture. Same eyes that once used to undo me with a single look. Not anymore.I don’t flinch when he speaks.“You really won’t even look at me?”I cross my arms, leaning back against the wall of the hospital waiting area. The air smells sterile and cold. But inside, I feel oddly still. Numb, even.“I’m looking at you right now,” I say quietly.“That’s not what I meant,” he replies. He shifts on his feet like he’s uncomfortable. “Caroline… everything’s out. Everyone knows what Dolly did. She’s going to prison. You don’t have to keep pretending like you’re angry at me.”“I’m not pretending,” I say, still calm. Too calm. “And I’m not angry.”He frowns. “You’re not?”