THE ALTAR WE BURNED
Catherine’s POV
Catherine sat alone in the dim light of her cramped apartment, the air thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and bitter regret. Outside, rain hammered relentlessly against the windowpanes, drumming a mournful rhythm that echoed the chaos in her soul. She held a chipped ceramic mug in her hands, once filled with tea now long cold and forgotten. Her gaze was fixed on the glowing screen of her phone, where a collage of images and videos played on loop — Arthur smiling, laughing, holding Isabella’s hand, his eyes bright with a happiness Catherine hadn’t seen in years.
Bab Populer