And him? He was posting on social media, celebrating his precious Gretchen's pregnancy with his child.
Now I had nothing. No family. No children. No love. No home.
Only endless pain. Bottomless despair. And hatred carved into my bones.
I don't know how long I cried. My voice went hoarse, then silent. The tears dried up, leaving only the raw burn behind my eyes.
The door opened softly. Ramona stepped in, weariness etched on her face, but also a flicker of relief: "Marina, Grandpa wants to see you. He has something to say."
I slowly sat up, my body still ice-cold, my hands and feet numb. Ramona supported me as we walked out of the room, step by step, toward Julian's bedroom. Each step felt like treading on knife points, the pain making my whole body tremble.
Pushing open the door, I found Julian sitting in the old wooden chair by his bed. His hair seemed to have whitened even more, his back more hunched, his face etched with exhaustion and heartache. In his eyes lingered a deep, unmistakable guilt.