CHAPTER THREE
454 Words
The room was dim and quiet, bathed only in the gentle glow of a bedside lamp. Shadows clung to the corners of the mansion bedroom, wrapping the space in stillness. Bianca sat on the edge of the bed, her back slightly hunched, her face stained with tears. In her trembling hands, she held a worn photograph of her father — the man who had once been her world.
Her body quivered as memories rushed in like an uninvited flood. She clutched the photograph tighter, her knuckles white, as if afraid it might slip away — like everything else in her life had.
Five years ago...
The weight of time pressed down on her chest. It felt as if life had unraveled slowly, cruelly, piece by piece.
She whispered into the silence, her voice broken, her spirit cracked.
“I am so sorry, Dad. I disappointed you. I allowed love to ruin everything. I am truly sorry.”
The words came out ragged, soaked in regret. She looked away from the photograph, bitterness clouding her gaze.
She shook her head slightly, almost as if trying to shake off the heaviness choking her. Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible.
“Five years... Five years later, and everything Victor said has come true. It’s like a movie unfolding before my eyes.”
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, but the tears kept falling. Her expression slowly shifted — no longer just sad, but determined. Her tired eyes began to glow with something fiercer. A flicker of strength.
“At least he can’t sell the properties,” she muttered with quiet firmness. “He can’t take them. Neither of us owns them. We’re just caretakers... and that’s all he’ll ever be.”
The photograph rested gently in her lap now, her fingers brushing its worn edges as she stared down at her father’s smiling face. Her tears returned, but this time, they carried more than sorrow. They carried hope.
“I promise,” she whispered, pressing a hand gently to her stomach, “I will get everything back... once I put to birth. I promise.”
Her words hung in the air like a sacred vow. Slowly, she placed both hands over her belly, her voice breaking, her soul reaching.
"Dear baby... please come into my womb. You’re the savior I am waiting for. God, please... just one child, and my nightmare will finally be over.”
She leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed, hands protectively cupping her stomach. For the first time in a long while, a small smile curved her lips. It was tired. Fragile. But real.
In the dim light of that quiet room, hope was born again.
- Writer
