Sarah’s POVTo every story, there are always two sides. The side of the victim, and the side of the perpetrator. People love to choose the side that looks more dramatic, the side that makes sense to them in the moment. And today, in this moment, Abraham was painting himself as the broken man. The irony of it all was bitter in my chest, because though he had destroyed everything we once had, the people filming us on the street would probably think I was the one being cruel. To them, I was the woman refusing a man’s desperate apology.They would not know the weight of my scars. They might even whisper that I was unnecessarily harsh. After all, no matter what he did, if a man kneels in the middle of the road, in front of the whole world, stopping traffic just to apologize, wasn’t I supposed to help him up? Wasn’t I supposed to be touched by such a performance?But people who haven’t lived through betrayal speak easily. Let them tell me the same thing when their husband brings home his ex
Abraham’s POV(Two hours ago.)The drive from Lakeside to Marinda View stretched long, far above two hours even when Roland was driving at a very decent high speed. The silence in the car was heavy, my mind replaying over and over what might happen if I finally saw her again. Each minute felt like an eternity, each passing tree along the road a reminder that I was getting closer to the woman who once was my entire world.When we finally reached Marinda View, I instantly recognized the aura of the town. It was the very place Sarah had grown up in. She had spoken about it before, back in the days when we were still together and happy. I remembered the way her eyes would light up when she described the streets, the hills, and the quiet life people lived here.Marinda View was nothing like the bustling cities where business thrived. It was peaceful, calm, and almost too silent. No industries invested here, no large companies set roots in this soil. It wasn’t that the town lacked charm, i
Sarah’s POV“Hurry up! You will be late for school!” I shouted, urging Cynthia to get ready quickly for school.Today was her last exam day at junior high, and I felt both nervous and proud watching her prepare for such an important moment. From next semester, she would now be in another higher level of education, the senior high, and in three years’ time, she would be going to college to study her dream course, medicine.Cynthia was very passionate about education, and because of this, she had pushed herself harder than usual. Just last night, she studied all night long, determined to get every detail right. This was why she didn’t wake up early this morning.Seeing that she was still asleep at 6am, and realizing that there were higher chances she might run late, my mother, Elizabeth, stepped in as she always did. She ironed Cynthia’s dress, because it was prohibited for any child to come dirty or wrinkled to school. The authorities would not take it lightly. To them, a wrinkled unif
Abraham’s POVShould we call this karma or coincidence? I couldn’t rack my head around it. The thought circled me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.How could I have post transplant diabetes after spending such a huge amount of money to get a new kidney?Dr Chen had calmly explained it was a usual occurrence in some cases after kidney transplant, but his medical explanation did nothing to ease my mind. I still believed it was karma, tightening its grip on me for the wrongs I had done.“You need someone beside you. Someone who deeply cares about you so your condition will not worsen. Someone who will make you a priority until you recover completely.” I could still hear Dr Chen’s voice echoing in my head, calm but stern, as though he knew I would resist the truth. His eyes had carried a mix of concern and professionalism, and I couldn’t unsee that look.Now, sitting up on the hospital bed, I let out a heavy sigh. The silence around me pressed harder than the IV attached to my vein.Who cou
Abraham’s POVI launched the phone to my ear. “Yes?” I said firmly, though inside, my heart was racing like a wild horse.I was desperately hoping it was the news I wanted him to say that he had found my daughter. That he was bringing her back to me. That she missed me, maybe even still thought of me, and that somehow, in spite of everything, she still wanted me in her life.I pictured it clearly: the moment she would finally arrive, me pulling her into my arms, holding her tight, and whispering a sincere apology for how I had treated her and her mother. That vision had kept me breathing during my weakest nights.“Sir, I found her.” His voice finally came through, low and filled with the respect of a loyal guard who never failed his duty.At once, my lips stretched into a wide smile. My chest swelled with relief. “Okay. Bring her to me,” I instructed. My tone was sharp but hopeful, like a man commanding his own happiness back into existence.“I am afraid that would not be possible, si
Abraham’s POVFive hours later, I opened my eyes slowly. My vision adjusted to the familiar white walls. I realized I was back in the same room I had been in before they moved me to the surgical theater.Yet somehow, in a way I couldn’t explain, my memory was blank. The moment they rolled me toward the surgical room felt like it had been cut out of my mind. Everything that happened inside remained hidden from me, as though it never existed.I tried everything in my power to remember—replaying fragments, straining my thoughts, hoping something small might resurface. But all my effort was futile. Nothing came. No flash, no voice, no sensation. Only emptiness. The harder I tried, the more I realized my mind wasn’t going to give me back those moments.As frustration began creeping in, the door clicked open. Suddenly, in walked Dr. Chen with his usual steady stride, wearing a wide, buoyant smile.“Congratulations. Your surgery was successful,” he said warmly, his voice carrying relief.I b