y Wol

not just for Calvin, but for me. The air grew thick with her paranoia, her jealousy

e against the steering wheel, were the onl

id, his voice strained.

l me irrational after what you did? After what she did? You

spoke, a nervous laugh escaping her. "Wow, sounds like someone's having a

on clearly boiling over. Without another word, he snatched the phone from the console and

r seat. "Thanks for the ride, Calvin, but I think I'll call my own cab from here. This seems like a private c

p a notch. Calvin remained silent,

e offered, his voice devoid

e prefer not to be caught in the middle of your domest

suddenly urgent. "Audrey, ca

ed, looking at me. "Audre

n myself and this man as possible. But another part, the stubborn, resilient

ice barely a whisper.

Don't you dare fall for his bullshit. But she c

turned to face me, his eyes pleading. "Audrey, I... I never meant for any of this to ha

Always the victim, isn't she? Just like five years ag

sed his eyes for a moment, a wave of what lo

rey, you know that. You were so angry, you lunged at h

Calvin? You stood there, watching me bleed, while you comforted her. You let your assista

, his voice rising. "I didn't

pain. The blood. The way the doctor looked at me, telling me there was nothing they cou

t. Her eyes were moist, brimming with unshed t

gaze unwavering. "After I lost the baby, I told you I wanted a divorce. I couldn't look at you, couldn't breathe

and through his hair. "I was horr

our apartment. Our home. She was sleeping in our bed, wearing my clothes, parading around like she owned the

ears. That day, I had walked into my home, the scent of her perfume perme

oice raw with grief and rage. "

ace. "Oh, Audrey. You really think this is your house anymo

ce. But she was quicker. She stepped aside, and I stumbled, losing my balance. Her hand shot out, pushing me ha

illed my baby. That was the

w me on the floor, dazed, and Brea standing over me, lo

ed, his voice cold, devoid of any conc

out, tears streaming down m

stated, his voice flat. "You wanted a divo

nto a million pieces, I knew. There was no going back. There was no 'us' left. I

from the past. "To the room where I lost our baby. I just sat there. And I cried until there were

ise in his throat. He reached for my hand aga

oice gaining strength. "You don'

with what sounded like genuine anguish. "I know

ing. Now, he was just a stranger begging for a second chance he didn't des

in," I said, my voice calm, resolut

ce cracking. "Brea is... she's not you. She's parano

he passing city lights. His misery was not m

ted, her voice soft, recalling my earlier statem

volved," I said, the words heavy with resignation. "They found out I was trying to leave him." T