25 Years Ago
Wile Belmonte stood silently in the doorway of their bedroom, his eyes fixed on Gumamela as the maids carefully dressed her in a simple, pale blue dress. The fabric was soft and unassuming, a stark contrast to the opulence of their surroundings and the turmoil that churned beneath the surface of their lives.
Gumamela sat motionless on the edge of the bed, her vacant gaze fixed somewhere beyond the walls of the room. The maids moved around her with practiced gentleness, brushing her hair back from her face, fastening buttons with quiet efficiency. Yet, she did not respond, did not acknowledge their presence beyond the faintest twitch of her lips.
Wile’s heart tightened painfully as he watched, yet he refused to show it. The woman before him was a shadow of the vibrant, spiri
