My chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. Every brush stroke I had ever painted for him, every late night in the studio while he leaned against the door watching me like I was the greatest thing he’d ever known—it all curdled into something rotten. The marriage I thought I had was nothing but a mural flaking off a cracked wall.
Then another voice drifted in. Softer. Female.
“Julian… the surgeon said the transplant was successful. I should be able to see again soon.”
“You went blind after giving birth to Isolde,” he replied gently. “You’ve never even looked into her eyes. She’s your mirror.”
A pause. Then he added casually, like he was discussing grocery lists, “When Elara wakes up, I’ll explain that you’re the caretaker I hired. And Isolde will be the orphaned daughter of a deceased friend. She won’t ever notice what’s missing. In more ways than one.”
Seraphine sounded uneasy. “But if you and Elara have another baby someday… won’t Isolde end up forgotten?”
A short laugh followed, cold as ice. “Elara won’t carry again. I had that implant taken care of. Isolde is my only successor.”
That was the moment something inside me shattered completely.
He hadn’t only taken my sight.