The bar was dimly lit, and the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses created a cocoon of anonymity that I desperately craved. I sat at the counter's far end, nursing a glass of whiskey I had no intention of finishing. The amber liquid caught the light, reminding me of Leo's eyes. A pang of guilt shot through me at the thought of my son, but I pushed it aside. I needed this moment, this brief respite from the weight of responsibility that constantly pressed down on my shoulders.
"Natalia?" A familiar voice broke through my reverie. I saw Daniel Frost sliding onto the stool next to mine. His face was etched with concern, and I realized how I must look to him – a far cry from the composed, determined woman I'd been earlier at the hospital.
"Daniel," I acknowledged, managing a s
