That evening, after dinner, I sat with Sarah on our worn-out couch, the fabric soft and familiar under my fingers, like a reminder of the life we’d built—one that I wanted to protect more fiercely than ever.
“Ethan, you can’t keep letting her do this,” Sarah said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy with the weight of years of unspoken tension. Her eyes, those same eyes that have seen through each of Victoria’s manipulations, met mine with a quiet resolve.
“I know,” I replied, feeling the words settle into the room like a promise. “It’s time to make a change.”
