Love in the Eye of the Storm
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He sent a photo of the ripped-up divorce agreement.
And then another photo arrived. This time, it was of our wedding rings.
Tristan: [You haven't thrown these out. You still love me, don't you?]
Tristan: [Come back to me. You're still my wife.]
A hard-to-describe bitterness churned within me, as if it were tearing at my throat. I froze. An unbidden tear slipped down my cheek, blurring the image for a moment.
When I focused again, something caught my eye—a small, barely visible object lying at the edge of the photo, almost hidden by the rings. I zoomed in, shaky fingers hovering over the screen.
Bab Populer