2 Year Later
“Come here.” I held my hands out to my two years old son Peter Moretti. He grinned and hugged me.
I picked him up and turned my attention to Kathrine who was laying on the couch with her face covered and groaning.
“What happened?” I asked, chuckling at her. We are living together in Amsterdam.
“You know what that loser was saying? He called me a witch!” She complained about her boyfriend.
“Did you two get into a fight?” I asked, putting Peter on the baby chair and getting his food.
“Ah, leave it. How was your work?” She asked, turning to me.
“Fine as usual.” I replied, feeding Peter.
I completed my graduation and began to work in a school as an English teacher.
“Hmm…” I smiled sadly, looking down. I think a part of my soul is dead, no matter much how vibrant my
