Damian stood still, rooted in place, the basket of pastries clenched tightly in his hands. The silence in the room felt heavier than any argument, stretching long enough that even his breathing felt intrusive.Her words lingered in the air, sharp and unforgiving.He swallowed, his jaw tightening.“You know,” Damian said slowly, his voice low but strained, “your words sting.” He forced a weak, almost bitter smile. “You must really hate me, Elisa. You’re so cold… you won’t even give me a chance at redemption.”He took a step closer, stopping only when her expression remained unmoved.“I was helpless back then,” he continued, desperation seeping through his carefully measured tone. “When your mother died, I truly was. There were things I couldn’t stop—things that were out of my control.”Before he could say more, Elisa raised her hand.The simple gesture was enough.“Stop,” she said calmly.Damian fell silent immediately, confusion flickering across his face.“You still don’t get it, do
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