Imogene Scott
The room is bathed in soft, golden light, and the scent of roses fills the air. Thousands of roses, everywhere. Petals scattered across the floor, bouquets placed on every surface. But that’s not what takes my breath away. It’s the slideshow projected on the wall—the images of Damien and me, together. Happy. In love.
The photos slide by, one after another, each one tugging at the fragile threads of my heart. Our wedding anniversary. Our first vacation. Moments I thought I’d buried deep inside myself.
I blink back the tears that sting my eyes, refusing to let them fall. This is a trick. This is manipulation. Damien is trying to pull me back in with memories, with things that no longer matter because the reality is, he has a child with Fiona. That’s the truth I can’t escape
