Emerson’s POVI couldn’t move on. No matter how much time had passed since Isabel’s death, the gaping wound in my chest refused to heal. It wasn’t just grief; it was guilt. A relentless, suffocating guilt that gnawed at my sanity day after day. I should have noticed sooner, should have seen the signs of her illness. Instead, I had lashed out, controlled her, suffocated her when all she needed was understanding and space.I often visited her grave, kneeling on the cold, unyielding ground as though it could offer me absolution. The marble headstone was pristine, its engraving sharp and final: Isabel White. The sight of her name etched in stone tore at me every time. I would whisper into the void, hoping that somehow, somewhere, she could hear me.“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse. “For everything. I should have been better—for you, for us, for Liam. He’s growing so fast now, Isa. You’d be so proud of him. He’s got your stubbornness, your fire. Every time he smiles, I see you.”Th
Last Updated : 2025-01-20 Read more