Logan swept past Olivia, leaving her frozen—a shiver crawling down her spine. The second his fingers intertwined with Moanna’s, Olivia’s eyes clouded with turmoil. She gnawed her lip raw, claws of jealousy shredding her composure.
Years of bitterness exploded as she planted herself in their path.
"Logan, stop! Your baby’s inside me—man up and face it!"
Olivia’s scream was ragged, her face contorted. Moanna recoiled, snatching her hand back like touching live wires. The irony tasted like blood—her heart stuttered to a halt.
Those words, lie or not, were a grenade to Moanna’s sanity. Was this her fate? A lovesick fool mirroring Olivia’s descent into madness?
Transformed into a grotesque jester, all for love? Oh, it burned—the kind that sent moths spiraling into flames. Self-immolation,
