SERAPHINA’S POV
Even after Maya’s car pulled away from the hotel parking lot, the glow of the chandeliers still lingered in my mind like a dream I hadn’t fully woken from.
More specifically—Kieran’s face.
And the way his voice had sounded when he said, ‘I’m grateful… For you, being his mother.’
It wasn’t just sadness. It wasn’t just guilt. It was something raw, vulnerable, like he was revealing broken pieces of himself. Pieces I’d never known existed.
I turned to the window, pressing my temple against the cool glass as the city lights streaked by like blurred constellations.
I had walked away. Calmly. Dignified. I hadn’t cried. I hadn’t yelled. I hadn’t wavered.
I should’ve felt victorious.
So why did a small, traitorous part of me ache at the memory of that desperate hope dying in his eyes when I pulled away?
