Hello readers, So? William and Ema are successful.
Abigail's POV - The words hang in the air, heavy with accusation and hatred. The room feels suffocating as if the walls themselves are closing in on me. His words, like sharp knives, have pierced through my heart, leaving behind wounds that ache with a pain I've never known before. The tears flow freely now, blurring my vision and mingling with the sobs that escape my trembling lips. The walls seem to close in on me as the echoes of his hurtful words reverberate in my mind. Each insult, each accusation, each cruel word he hurled at me felt like a dagger, cutting through the fragile remnants of my heart. I can still feel the sting of the slap that sent me sprawling to the side, my hand instinctively cradling my now-painful abdomen. Tears flow down my cheeks like an unending river, a mixture of anger, betrayal, and despair. How could he say those things? How could he believe that I could betray him in such a way? The pain in my chest is unbearable, but the pain in my abdomen is more i
Michael's POV - I can't believe the words that came out of my mouth, the venomous accusations I hurled at Abigail. The weight of them hangs heavily on my conscience, and I can't shake the feeling of regret that's settled deep within me. How could I have said those things? How could I have let anger and doubt cloud my judgment to such an extent? In the solitude of my gym room, I take off my blazer, tie, and shirt, each article of clothing falling to the floor as a symbolic shedding of the facade I've been wearing. The mirror reflects a man filled with self-loathing, his eyes blurry with unshed tears, his chest heaving with anger and frustration. The punching bag bears the brunt of my fury as I strike it with a force that matches the intensity of my emotions. Each punch is a desperate attempt to expel the guilt and confusion that's consuming me from the inside. The bag swings wildly, echoing the chaos in my heart. As I sit on the cold gym floor, a sense of numbness washes over me. I
Michael's POV - I step into the living area, my heart heavy with a pain I never anticipated. How did we come to this point? A divorce, a word that once seemed so distant and improbable, is now our reality. If this is the path we must take, then so be it. The lawyer, a paragon of professionalism, awaits me. Time is of the essence, and without delay, he dives into the intricate details of the legal proceedings that lie ahead. His voice is crisp, each word a reminder of the gravity of the situation. "Mr. Pattinson, we must address the matter of alimony," he begins a quick flicker of his eyes over his notes. "You've cited infidelity as the basis for the divorce." I nod solemnly, the word "infidelity" leaving a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. It's a word that carries the weight of betrayal, a word that embodies the irrevocable breach of trust that has shattered the foundation of our marriage. The lawyer's raised eyebrows echo his disbelief. "Abigail Ma'am cheated on you?" His astonishme
Abigail's POV - As I rise from my slumber, a sense of determination washes over me. I need to have a calm, rational conversation with Mick. I must understand what has led him to think this way. If he remains as stubborn as he was last night, then perhaps there's no choice but to consider parting ways. I refuse to compromise my self-respect in the face of baseless accusations. It's imperative that he recognizes his boundaries, and he has no alternative but to come clean about his thoughts. With these intentions in mind, I make my way downstairs. I'm prepared to hear him out, to understand his perspective. However, as I reach the staircase, I'm greeted by an unexpected sight. Michael is saying things that are utterly unfounded and filled with filth, casting unwarranted aspersions upon me. At this moment, I realize that I can't simply ignore what he's saying. I need to confront these accusations, delve into his thoughts, and discover what has led him to believe such hurtful things abo
Abigail's POV - "What else to do, Dad?" I implore, tears welling up in my eyes. "I don't understand why he's saying he didn't do anything to make me pregnant when he did, I swear it. And accusing me of being with William for money? I have more than enough of my own. I've always worked for myself, even as Mrs. Pattinson. Yet, if he believes I would sell my integrity and claim it in front of the world, then I'm sorry, but I have to leave this man, even if I have to prove myself right." My voice quivers with a mixture of anger, frustration, and hurt. A sharp pain shoots through my abdomen, causing me to gasp and clutch my belly. The stress of this situation is taking a toll on me, and I can feel the strain in every fiber of my being. "Oh please, stop acting like a saint," he retorts, his voice dripping with disdain. "At least not in front of me. I'll give you one more chance to confess and seek forgiveness. Believe me, I'll give my name to this child." His words pierce through the tens
Abigail's POV - I step into the room, and every corner seems to whisper our past. It was once our sanctuary, a place where love blossomed, laughter echoed, and dreams intertwined. The walls themselves seem to remember the soft caresses, the shared secrets, and the stolen kisses. It was a room where our hearts danced to a symphony of emotions. Now, the room feels cavernous, echoing with the emptiness of our shattered relationship. The bed, once a place of shared dreams and whispered promises, stands as a silent witness to our love turned sour. I can almost see us, tangled in each other's arms, our laughter ringing in the air as we reveled in each other's company. But those moments are nothing more than fading echoes, distant memories that will never be reclaimed. My eyes fall upon the bathroom door, and I can't help but remember the times he emerged, his hair still damp from the shower, and a towel draped low around his waist. The intimacy of those moments, the vulnerability we share
Abigail's POV - I wake up in a room that exudes luxury from every corner. The opulence of the surroundings momentarily overshadows the pain coursing through my body. It's a struggle to sit up, the ache in my abdomen intensifying. Confusion clouds my mind as I take in my unfamiliar surroundings. Three nurses bustle around me, their faces masked in professional stoicism. I try to speak, my voice trembling, and ask, "Where am I?" But they avoid my questions, their eyes fixated on their tasks as they check my vitals and adjust machines I can't fully comprehend. Desperation fuels my next question, "How's the baby?" I need to know, need reassurance that despite everything that's happened, our child is safe. But the nurses remained silent, their hushed whispers and exchanged glances revealing more than their words ever could. Finally, after my relentless insistence, one of them breaks the deafening silence. Her voice is barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken co
Michael's POV - The day turns into night, and I find myself sitting on the bed, gazing out at the moonlit balcony. It's the same balcony where that night, I made a hasty decision and left Abigail here, alone. The memories flood back, each one a dagger to my heart. The way she would cuddle up to me, her infectious giggle, the way her cheeks would blush at my compliments, and those deep, mesmerizing ocean eyes that held my world captive. I can't deny it, even to myself. I miss her. The emptiness in this room, in my life, is haunting. Everything around me feels like a cruel reminder of what once was. Every piece of furniture, every decoration, it's all intertwined with her presence. The silence is deafening, and the absence of her laughter is a heavy weight on my soul. It was my decision to divorce her. I thought that by threatening her with it, she would confess to her betrayal. But she didn't. Instead, she left with her dignity intact, a quiet strength that I never anticipated. She