He walked over and pulled me into his arms with a sigh.
"Serena, I'm sorry. Has someone been running their mouth again? If it's too much for you... we can get a divorce."
He looked so pained. So devoted.
I calmly pushed him away and stared straight into his eyes, searching for even a shred of genuine sorrow—some small proof that all the years I'd poured into this marriage had been worth something.
"Damian, I haven't done anything wrong. Why are you doing this to me?"
Damian froze for a moment, then his eyes reddened with what looked like hurt.
"Serena, I'm not... a real man. I understand if you look down on me. But I really don't want to leave you." His voice cracked, and he pulled me close, burying his face against me as he cried.
In that moment, I caught a glimpse of the Damian from ten years ago.
Back then, he followed me everywhere, calling me his "little Serena," pressing the finest pastries into my hands. When he took me hiking, he carried me on his back all the way to the summit.
Under a sky blazing with stars, the boy's eyes shone brighter than any of them. He held my hand so tightly it almost hurt. "Serena, I never want to leave you—not in this lifetime. Let's be together forever, okay?"
I'd believed we would have that forever.
Until the day Damian and I went traveling in the mountains and came across a fourteen-year-old girl named Edna Fox.
Several men had her pinned to the ground, trying to hoist her onto the back of a three-wheeled cart. She was on her knees, thrashing, begging through sobs.
"Dad, please don't give me away. I can go up the mountain to chop firewood, I can work the fields, I can earn money—"
Tears and dust caked her dark, gaunt face. Her hair was a wild, brittle tangle.
From the murmurs of the onlookers, I pieced together what was happening: her own father was selling her to a fifty-year-old man for enough cash to build a house.
Pity surged through me. I shoved the men back and pulled her behind me.
After a heated argument, Damian handed over all the money we'd budgeted for the trip to Edna's father. He saved her. He promised to sponsor her education.
What none of us expected was that the moment Edna graduated from college, she'd come straight to Riverton to find Damian—and stay by his side as his assistant.
She played the victim at every turn, meek and cowering whenever I was around, as though I were the one mistreating her.
More than once, Damian told me Edna was timid by nature, that I should soften my tone with her, be gentler.
I assumed she was simply the kind of person who couldn't handle social situations. It never occurred to me that she'd been carefully, methodically digging a trap beneath my feet.
Until my birthday.
I handed her a glass of fruit wine, meaning nothing by it.
"Edna, let me introduce you to some friends. You should spend more time with them."
She took two sips—then clutched her stomach and screamed that I'd forced her to drink, that I'd done it on purpose to hurt her.
She wailed until her voice gave out, doubled over and crumpling into Damian's arms. The look he turned on me was laced with venom—a poisoned arrow aimed straight at my heart. He said nothing. He just scooped her up and ran for the hospital.
I was furious that day too. I fought with Damian, screamed at him, demanded we call off the engagement.
In the end, his pleading and pressure from both sets of parents wore me down. I was naive enough to believe the whole thing would simply blow over.
But the seed of hatred had already taken root.
Damian decided I had deliberately killed his child, and he set out to punish me for the rest of my life.
I lifted my hand, numb and detached, and rested it on top of his head. A cold laugh escaped my lips.
"Damian, if you had to choose between me and Edna—who would you not be able to leave?"
Panic flashed through his eyes.
"Serena, why bring her up out of nowhere? Did someone say something to you?"
"She and I haven't been in contact for a long time. Don't overthink this."
I lowered my gaze, wiped the tears from my face, and stood up without a word.
