I wonder if he realizes how I felt back then. Maybe now he can understand.
As I lowered my gaze, I noticed his mismatched socks, one blue and one black, and a wave of unexpected warmth washed over me. Despite everything, he still cared enough to come rushing here, even in his disarray.
I couldn’t help but think back to that day at my parents' gravesite, when he held me close and promised to take care of me forever. His voice had been so gentle then, soothing in a way that made me feel safe for the first time in a long while. It was a light in the darkness of my life, a flicker of hope.
In that moment, I truly believed I would spend the rest of my life as his wife.
But reality always delivers a crushing blow just when I start to hope.
His voice, sharp and full of accusation, shattered my illusions completely.
"Ingrid, when did you become so manipulative?"
Asher raised his hand to his face, examining his fingers stained with blood. He sniffed deliberately, then glanced at the blood on the bed sheets with a deep frown.