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.
"Nobody said anything."
"I was just feeling sentimental. If I hadn't let Edna drink that fruit wine back then, maybe your child would already be four years old."
Damian's expression visibly tightened. His spine went rigid, and the words tumbled out before he could stop them.
"Serena, how could I possibly have a child with that worthless girl? I'd rather die alone than have a child with her."