Julian honestly had no idea exactly when Willa had turned and walked away.
He only felt an agonizing void hollow out his entire chest.
He was haunted by the vision of Willa kneeling at his feet, pleading for her mother's life, only to be replaced by the gruesome memory of her in the operating room, lying in a pool of her own blood.
Every single memory was a rusted blade hacking away at his heart, making him wish he were dead.
It wasn't until the pitch-black night completely swallowed the city that Julian finally dragged his broken body up from the pavement and began walking aimlessly into the dark.
He was the one who murdered Willa's mother. He was the one who murdered their baby.
If he hadn't been such a greedy, arrogant bastard, none of this would have ever happened.
No matter
