Lahat ng Kabanata ng Shattered Vows : Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

ElenaIt was all over the headlines the next morning.“Psychiatrist Exposes Husband’s Mistress in Shocking Courtroom Reveal.”“CEO and Mistress Under Investigation for Embezzlement Scandal.”“The Hart Marriage Wasn’t What It Seemed — Sources Reveal Years of Lies.”The city buzzed like it had been waiting for this—like our personal tragedy was a meal they’d been starving to consume. And now that they were feasting, they wanted more. Faces that once nodded politely at me in the grocery store now did double-takes. Whispers trailed behind me like perfume.But I didn’t shrink.I had no reason to.Because truth, when wielded correctly, becomes armor.I watched Daniel’s televised apology that night.His voice was soft. Calculated. A performance wrapped in humility. He sat in a radio studio with a carefully chosen journalist, hands folded, lips pressed into a repentant line.“I’ve made terrible mistakes,” he said, eyes lowered. “I betrayed my wife

ElenaReturning to the hospital felt like walking back into a former life. The walls were the same sterile white. The scent of antiseptic still clung to the air. The lobby echoed with the same soft shuffle of shoes and hushed tones of urgency.But I am different now.I wasn’t just Dr. Elena Hart, Department Head of Psychiatry.I was the woman the tabloids had devoured. The one with the shattered marriage, the viral court videos, the whispered rumors that spilled down corridors long after the trial ended.I was her.And I had to walk through these halls like I wasn’t afraid of being seen.“Dr. Hart?”A young intern stopped me near the elevator, her eyes wide.“I—I read your article in The Independent about the trauma of public betrayal. It… it helped me. A lot.”I blinked. “Thank you.”She smiled, a bit sheepishly. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I admire you. Coming back here? That takes guts.”Guts.I didn’t feel brave. I felt exposed. Tir

ElenaThe silence after Sophie’s visit was deceptive.It stretched over days—long, still, and brittle. But like the surface of a frozen lake, it couldn’t hold forever.On the third day, I received the email.No subject line.No sender.Just a single line of text:“You thought you were free.”Attached was a photo of me.Taken the day before.I was standing outside Noah’s school, mid-laugh, reaching for his hand.The timestamp chilled me: 3:46 PM.I watched.Followed.Even now.Even after everything.Daniel.I didn’t tell Lucas—not right away.Instead, I called Noah’s school and arranged a security protocol. I asked for a different pickup point. I made excuses to leave work early and began scanning every face on the street, every parked car.But the watching never stopped.It was in the smudge of fingerprints on my apartment window.In the muffled ring of calls that dropped the moment I answered.I

ElenaNo one warns you about the silence that comes after chaos.For years, I had existed in a constant state of emotional whiplash. Secrets unraveling, lies festering beneath the surface of every smile, betrayal wearing the face I used to kiss goodnight. My world had been loud—rage, grief, confrontation, shame. And now?It was quiet.Uncomfortably so.Daniel was gone. Not just gone, but removed from the narrative he tried to dominate. There were no more threats. No more photos. No more sudden phone calls from unknown numbers or anonymous emails laced with innuendo.Just… stillness.And for the first time in years, I didn’t know who I was without the war.The morning after his final arrest, I woke up in a strange peace. The kind that doesn’t announce itself but instead seeps into your bones like morning light through sheer curtains. I didn’t rush to check my phone. I didn’t rehearse worst-case scenarios in my head. I just… lay there.Breathing.

ElenaThe letter came on a Thursday.I’d just returned from the farmer’s market with a basket of early peaches and wild honey when I saw the envelope tucked inside the mailbox—white, crisp, sterile. The kind that always carried news no one wanted to read.Inside, the words blurred for a moment. Family Court. Daniel Hart. Custody Appeal Hearing: Scheduled.It felt less like a threat now and more like the final chapter of a book I no longer lived inside. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.I sat at the kitchen table, turning the paper over in my hands, and took a breath that came out shakier than I expected. The peaches rolled slightly in the basket beside me, sweet and warm, oblivious.It had been over six months since I last saw Daniel in person. The last time, he’d looked at me not with hatred, not even love—but with a strange, desperate hunger to rewrite the past. Like if he just said the right thing, I’d forget everything he’d done.But I hadn’t.