But now, kneeling in the snow, Evelyn wondered if she was clinging to salvation—or if she had simply traded one prison for another.
Evelyn’s past had shaped her rebellious streak. She had grown strong, fiercely independent and stubborn to a fault. Her reasoning was simple: if even her own parents had abandoned her, how could she possibly expect goodness from anyone else?
That was, until she met Christopher.
The day they met was etched into her memory—a moment both humiliating and life-changing.
She had been grabbed by a group of angry strangers, accusing her of being a mistress. The crowd around her jeered, their judgmental whispers cutting like knives. No one listened to her frantic protests that she didn’t even know these people. No one stepped in to help.
Then, like a figure descending from the heavens, Christopher had intervened.
He pulled Evelyn out of the mob, his deep, calm voice cutting through the chaos like a balm. His words were firm, authoritative and laced with an unshakable confidence, “I’m her husband. Who are you? Let go of her, or I’ll call the police.”
Just like that, he had saved her.