Caroline’s Point of ViewThe ride back to the house is silent. Penelope grips the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turn white. The tension in the air is heavy, suffocating. I know she’s furious—for me, for everything I’ve been through—but she keeps it bottled up, swallowing her words.I should feel angry too. I should be livid, screaming, demanding answers for everything that’s happened to me. But I feel nothing. Not sadness, not relief, not even pain. Just an empty, hollow void stretching inside me, swallowing up every emotion I used to have.The house looms ahead as we pull into the driveway, dark and quiet. It looks exactly the same as when I left, but something about it feels different. Or maybe I’m the one who’s changed.Penelope parks the car but doesn’t turn off the engine. She shifts in her seat, her sharp gaze locking onto me. “Are you sure about this?” Her voice is firm, steady, but I can hear the concern beneath it.I force myself to nod. “I need to do this.”She
Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe drive home is quiet, the kind of quiet that settles deep into your bones, making you restless. The city outside my window is alive, glowing with streetlights and neon signs, but I barely see it. My mind is somewhere else—still stuck in that hospital room, in the lingering echoes of Caroline’s voice.I don’t understand why I feel like this.She was hurt. I know that. Even though she refuses to admit she was wrong, even though she had the audacity to accuse Dolly of something so cruel, the truth remains—she was hurt, too.And I didn’t do anything.I should have stayed, should have made sure she was okay, should have at least listened—but she made it impossible. Her accusations, her refusal to take responsibility… what was I supposed to do?But even now, I can’t get her face out of my head. The way she looked at me. The way her voice shook when she said Dolly pushed her. The way her eyes went blank when I didn’t believe her.I tighten my grip on the wheel. Maybe
Knoxx’s Point of ViewI search everywhere.Every street, every hotel, every place she might have gone. I call in favors, dig through every possible lead, but it’s like chasing a ghost. Every step I take, she’s already five steps ahead. Every door I knock on, it’s already closed. Every trace of her is gone, wiped clean as if she never existed.Caroline is gone.Not hiding. Not waiting for me to find her.She left.The weight of that realization presses down on my chest like a slow, crushing force, making it hard to breathe. At first, I refuse to believe it. It doesn’t make sense. She’s my wife. No matter how bad things got between us, no matter how many times she tried to walk away, she always stayed.She always stayed.She gave me cold shoulders, harsh words, and empty stares, but s
Knoxx’s Point of ViewThe months pass like a blur, each day bleeding into the next, indistinct and empty. The city moves on, as it always does, but I feel stuck in time, trapped in the same moment—the moment she left.And no matter how hard I try to fight against it, no matter how many strings I pull or connections I leverage, I can’t change that fact.I use everything in my arsenal—private investigators, surveillance, even my own men—hoping for a single lead, a single clue about where she could have gone. But it’s as if she never existed. Every trail I follow leads to a dead end, every source comes up with nothing.At first, I refuse to believe it. This is Caroline. My wife. The woman who has always been there, always waiting, always fighting to keep what little we had. She wouldn’t just disappear like this.But the more time passes, the
Caroline’s Point of ViewFour years.Four years since I left New York. Four years since I walked away from the life I thought I was meant to have. Four years since I decided that I was done waiting for people to choose me, to see my worth, to love me the way I deserved.And now, here I am, standing in front of a full-length mirror in my modest Milan apartment, adjusting the stiff fabric of my graduation cap. The deep navy gown drapes over my shoulders, the weight of it symbolic—not just of the degree I’m about to receive, but of everything it took to get here.I never imagined myself in this position, not really. When I left New York, I had no plan beyond survival. I had no idea where I was going, only that I couldn’t stay. But somewhere along the way, I found a path. And I walked it.‘No,’ I correct myself, gripping the edges of the cap firmly as I set it on my head.I built it.The apartment is quiet, save for the distant hum of morning traffic filtering in through the open window.
Caroline’s Point of ViewThe night air in Milan is crisp, carrying the scent of fresh rain from earlier in the evening. Neon lights from the bars and restaurants lining the streets flicker and dance against the wet pavement, giving the city a dreamlike glow. It feels different tonight—lighter, freer. Maybe it’s because for the first time in years, I don’t have the weight of unfinished business pressing down on my shoulders.I graduated.I have a new life.And tonight, I’m going to celebrate.I adjust the strap of my dress as I step into the dimly lit bar, scanning the crowded room until my eyes land on a familiar face at one of the booths. My best friend, Penelope, is already waiting, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips as she waves me over.“Finally!” she exclaims as I slide into the seat across from her. “You were taking forever. What were you doing? Writing an essay on how to have fun?”I roll my eyes. “I was making sure my son was okay before abandoning him for the night.”She
Caroline’s Point of ViewFor the past three years, Adrian has been by my side. Not as my boyfriend. Not even as something I could clearly define. But as someone—someone who took care of my son when I was too exhausted to even lift my head. Someone who stayed up with me when I thought I was failing as a mother. Someone who made sure I ate when I forgot, who held me when I cried, who reminded me that I wasn’t alone.He never pushed. Never asked for more. And yet, everyone around us assumed we were together. I let them assume. It was easier than explaining something I wasn’t even sure I understood myself. Because the truth is, Adrian and I never had that conversation.There was no grand confession, no defining moment where we looked at each other and decided, ‘this is it.’ There was only ‘this.’The quiet companionship. The shared responsibilities. The way he always seemed to be there when I needed him most. An
Caroline’s Point of ViewI wake up to the soft sound of giggles.For a moment, I linger between sleep and consciousness, the warmth of the blankets making it tempting to stay curled up. But then I hear it again—light laughter, followed by the distinct sound of a spatula scraping against a pan. The scent of coffee drifts in, mingling with something warm and savory, and that’s when I realize what’s happening.Adrian is already up.I push myself up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glance toward the slightly open bedroom door. The house is filled with a quiet kind of life—soft morning sounds, the occasional clatter of dishes, and my son’s delighted giggles. It’s a scene that has played out so many times in the past three years, yet somehow, today, it feels different.Padding down the hall, I step into the kitchen and stop at the sight in front of me.Adrian stands at the stove, one hand flipping an o
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?”