The Cost Of Betrayal
Prisca chose a quiet café far from her neighborhood. She didn’t want familiar faces. She didn’t want whispers. She arrived early and picked a table near the back. Her hands rested on the cup in front of her, but she hadn’t touched it. Michael walked in ten minutes later. He looked tired. Not guilty. Just tired. He saw her and came over. “You look terrible,” he said softly as he sat down. “So do you,” she replied. No greeting. No warmth. Just damage. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt heavy with old choices. “He filed?” Michael asked. “Yes.” “On what grounds?” She laughed once, dry and sharp. “Adultery. Fraud. Emotional manipulation.” Michael winced. “He’s asking for Daniel,” she added. Michael leaned back slowly. “He can’t just take him.” “
- Writer
