Margarita stood in a dimly lit bathroom, her heart pounding in her chest, searching for something. When she looked at herself in the mirror, her black dress reminded her of something. The same dress she wore at her graduation day party in Milan. The sound of her own ragged breath echoed in her ears as she turned around, only to find Samson standing there. His intense gaze locked with hers. His whiskey-brown eyes pierced through her, and she could feel the weight of his presence.Fear gripped Margarita’s soul as she tried to scream for help, but before she could utter a single word, Samson’s firm hand covered her mouth, muffling her cries. The touch sent shivers down her spine, and she felt her voice trapped within her.“Cálmate gatita” (Calm down, kitten). Her eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for an escape, but there was none.“Help,” a moan escaped, locking her gaze with his. Samson’s grip tightened, urging her to keep quiet, to keep her voice low. She could sense t

Margi stood in front of the full-length mirror, her cold, manicured fingers tracing the intricate patterns of delicate lace that adorned her wedding dress. The gown was a stunning masterpiece, with shimmering beads catching the light and cascading down the flowing fabric. It was the same dress that Samson and Sarah had once chosen together; Margi had ordered an identical piece, a painful reminder of what it once was. Her eyes welled up with tears as she recalled the moments when Samson had adored her in this very dress. She remembered the way his eyes sparkled with love and how his touch sent shivers down her spine. The memories were bittersweet, tinged with a sense of loss and anger.She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts and convince herself that Aslan was the right choice, the one who would bring her happiness and a future free from the pain of the past. She closed her eyes, desperately searching for the strength to believe in her decision.“Aslan is the right

Laila slowly made her way back to the hall where Margarita was preparing to throw her bouquet. A forced smile formed on Laila’s face as she glanced at Margi and playfully wiggled her eyebrows, silently urging her to stand in the group of hopeful catchers. However, deep down, Laila’s heart was shattered, and the thought of getting married anytime soon was far from her mind.Suddenly, Mateo approached her, sensing her turmoil. He stood by her side, offering silent support and understanding in the midst of the joyous occasion, but Laila refused to accept his presence.“Laila, come on,” Margi called out, hoping to include her in the joyful tradition. Laila mustered a smile and politely declined the invitation. “Thank you, Margi, but I’m not quite ready to take that step just yet,” she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of sadness and determination.Capo, observing the interaction, chimed in with a smile directed at Laila. “That’s unfortunate to hear,” he remarked, his eyes scanning the

Margarita woke up the following day, replaying the entire scene in her mind. The memory of Aslan accusing her of sleeping with Samson made her feel disgusted. The bruises on her cheeks from his harsh grip served as a painful reminder of his anger. Determined to confront the situation and clear the air, she noticed the slightly ajar door of another room where Aslan was sleeping. With hesitant steps, she made her way toward the room, determined to address the past and ensure it didn’t taint their present. She had married Aslan with the hope of a fresh start, but his lingering grudges threatened to overshadow their new beginning.Her trembling hand reached out to touch his, her voice barely above a whisper. “Aslan,” she muttered, but before she could say another word, his eyes flew open, startling her. Caught off guard, she stumbled and fell to her knees, hastily composing herself in front of him.“You must have the wrong information about Samson and me; we are just...” Her words trailed

Margarita sat in front of Dr. Davis, her gaze fixed on him, hoping that he could help her navigate the turbulent mental battle she was facing. “How are you, Margarita?” Dr. Davis asked, his voice gentle and concerned. “I’m feeling a bit feverish, but that’s not why I’m here. I need your help to understand my husband,” Margarita replied, her voice tinged with both vulnerability and determination. Dr. Davis listened attentively as Margarita poured out her heart, sharing the intricacies of her relationship with Aslan and the intentions she had discovered behind his actions. With each word, there were moments when she couldn’t hold back her tears, surprised at how she had fallen into his manipulative trap. After Margarita finished, Dr. Davis leaned back on his couch, contemplating her words. He began to jot down some key points as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m going to ask you a question,” Dr. Davis said, his tone gentle yet probing.“Do you love him?” Margarita was momentarily taken aba