Semua Bab Shattered Vows : Bab 121 - Bab 130

ElenaIt was strange how easily peace could make me anxious.For years, I had lived inside a storm—its noise became my lullaby, its chaos my routine. And now, with silence draped over my life like freshly fallen snow, I found myself afraid to take a step. Afraid I would leave footprints in something too beautiful, too fragile to last.Adrian wasn’t like anyone I had known.He didn’t chase me. He didn’t press for answers or ask for more than I was ready to give. He simply existed at the edges of my new life, patient and still, like the kind of man who knew how to wait—not out of weakness, but wisdom.We spent more time together in the weeks that followed—quiet walks, simple dinners, books exchanged without fanfare. There was no grand pursuit, no declarations of undying love. But in the small things—in the way he always showed up when he said he would, in the way he remembered I preferred my coffee black only when I was restless—something began to bloom.I didn

ElenaThe message was left on my office door.Folded, no envelope. Just my name in slanted handwriting that hadn’t changed despite all the years and damage.“You don’t have to forgive me. Just tell me how to live with this.”I stared at it longer than I should have.Not because I was moved.But because I realized something chilling—I had underestimated him again.He wasn’t just lingering.He was watching.I didn’t tell Adrian right away.Not because I didn’t trust him, but because some things—some ghosts—are mine to bury.I left the note in my drawer, under a file marked Closed Cases. A reminder that trauma doesn’t always knock loudly when it returns. Sometimes it creeps in, quietly, like smoke from a fire you thought was extinguished.That afternoon, a client appointment was canceled.I used the spare hour to pick up Aaron from school. He was waiting outside, earbuds in, scrolling his phone. I waved. He didn’t look up.And the

ElenaTwo days after the hearing, Aaron didn’t come home from school.The call came at 3:19 p.m.A teacher’s voice, shaky and unsure:“We’re… we’re not certain where Aaron is. He was marked present for the first period, but he never showed up for his afternoon classes. We assumed he left early.”My heart didn’t just drop.It shattered.I was out the door before the woman could finish.By 4:00, I was at the school, demanding security footage.By 4:20, the footage showed him walking off campus—with a man in a black hoodie and sunglasses.The man turned briefly toward the camera. Just enough for me to recognize the shape of his jaw.Daniel.My lungs seized.He had taken him.Victoria called the police.Adrian left the clinic mid-surgery.I sat in the back of a patrol car with frozen hands, watching my reflection vibrate in the glass.I had spent years fearing this.And now it was happening.“Is it considered ki

ElenaSome days, silence felt heavier than pain.It hung in the rooms like leftover grief, echoing in the spaces Daniel used to infect with his presence. His voice no longer lingered in the walls. His chaos had retreated. But something about the absence made it harder to breathe—like waiting for a ghost to reappear.Except I knew he wouldn’t.The court order was final.He was gone.And yet… I didn’t feel free.Not completely.“Mom?” Aaron’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.He stood at the edge of the hallway, holding a folder from school and looking uncertain.“I got an A on my history essay.”I smiled, slowly.“You did?”He nodded and walked toward me, placing the paper in my lap like a peace offering. My fingers traced the words: ‘How We Define Heroism.’ His handwriting had improved. His arguments were clear, structured. He even quoted Viktor Frankl.“You worked hard on this,” I said.“I tried,” he murmured. “Mr. Jae sai

ElenaThe envelope was thick—yellowed at the corners, sealed with a smudge of wax as if trying to preserve its importance. No return address. Just my name, written in Daniel’s unmistakable handwriting.Dr. Elena Hart.The sight of it stopped me cold.I hadn’t seen that script in over a year. Not since the custody hearing, not since he was committed to the psychiatric facility after the breakdown that tore through him like a storm of his own making. He had disappeared from my life as violently as he entered it—obsessive, desperate, broken.I stood in the kitchen with the letter trembling in my hand, the kettle screaming in the background. But I didn’t move.For days, I didn’t open it.I left it on the desk in my study. Sometimes, I caught myself staring at it like it was a bomb, waiting to go off. Other times, I imagined it was a trick—his final act of manipulation. Or maybe, just maybe, the only honest thing he’d ever left behind.It took me five nigh