Seraphina’s POV
The door to my apartnt slamd shut behind .
I pressed my back against it, sliding down until I hit the floor. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking.
I couldn’t breathe.
The image was burned into my brain. Damien. Standing there with *her*. That woman with the perfect smile and the perfect dress and the perfect everything. The way she’d touched his arm. The way she’d looked at Lily and Adrian like they were already hers.
My children.
*Breathe, Sera. Just breathe.*
But I couldn’t. My chest felt like soone had reached inside and crushed my lungs into powder.
The tears ca hot and fast, streaming down my face before I could stop them. I wrapped my arms around my knees and let myself break apart right there on the floor.
Damien had moved on.
Of course he had. What did I expect? That he’d wait forever for a wife who’d abandoned him and their children? That he’d spend the rest of his life alone, pining for soone who wasn’t good enough for him in the first place?
The woman flashed through my mind again. Pretty. Poised. Put-together. Everything I wasn’t.
God, she’d probably been waiting for to leave. Probably saw as the obstacle between her and everything she wanted.
*Stop it. Stop torturing yourself.*
But I couldn’t stop. My brain kept replaying every detail. The way Damien had stood next to her. The way they’d walked together toward that expensive car. Had they looked comfortable together? Happy?
Did he love her?
The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest, so sharp I actually gasped.
I pressed my hands over my mouth to muffle the sob that tore out of . The neighbors didn’t need to hear falling apart. Again.
Lily and Adrian. Where were they?
Were they at ho? With a nanny? Or were they *there*, at that party, and I’d just missed them?
Were they okay?
The question sat in my stomach like acid. Adrian would be eight now. Did he still love dinosaurs? Still read those science books he’d been obsessed with?
And Lily. God. Lily was three years old. She’d been a baby when I left. A tiny, perfect baby who’d wrapped her little hand around my finger and owned my whole heart.
Did she even rember ?
My whole body started shaking harder. I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, trying to physically hold myself together.
What if that woman—*she*, the one with the perfect smile—what if she was their stepmother now? What if she was tucking them in at night? Reading them bedti stories? Kissing their foreheads and telling them she loved them?
What if she was an to them when Damien wasn’t looking?
The thought made physically ill. I scrambled to my feet and barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up.
I knelt on the cold tile, my forehead pressed against the toilet seat, and let myself cry. Really cry. The kind of crying that ca from sowhere deep and broken inside.
What if Damien had more children with her? New babies. His new family.
Would he still love Adrian and Lily the sa way? Or would they beco the reminders of his failed first marriage? The baggage from his broken past?
*Stop. Stop thinking like this.*
I dragged myself up and splashed cold water on my face. My reflection in the mirror looked like death. Eyes swollen and red. Hair a ss.
I looked exactly like what I was. A woman who’d thrown away everything good in her life and was now paying the price.
I stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. My apartnt suddenly felt too small. Too quiet. Too empty.
Everything was empty without them.
I grabbed my phone, pulling up old photos I’d saved before I left. Adrian’s first day of school. Lily’s first blink. The four of us at the park, Damien’s arm around my waist, both kids grinning at the cara.
We’d looked so happy.
Before I ruined everything.
*I miss them. God, I miss them so much.*
The pain was unbearable. Physical. Like soone had taken a knife and carved out everything vital inside .
I cried until I had nothing left. Until my throat was raw and my head pounded and my eyes felt like sandpaper.
The apartnt grew dark around . I didn’t bother turning on the lights.
I just lay there on the couch, staring at nothing, rembering everything.
Had he already forgotten about ?
*Maybe that’s for the best,* so rational part of my brain whispered. *Maybe it’s better if he’s happy.*
But it didn’t feel better. It felt like dying.
I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I woke up to sunlight streaming through the windows and a headache so brutal I could barely move.
My phone said 11:47 AM.
I’d slept for over twelve hours.
My body ached. My eyes were crusted shut with dried tears. My throat felt like I’d swallowed glass.
I dragged myself to the bathroom and stood under the shower until the water ran cold. Then I threw on sweatpants and a t-shirt and stared at my reflection again.
Still looked like death. But marginally better than last night.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t sit here and think about them. About Damien and his new life and my children growing up without .
I’d go crazy.
I needed to do sothing. Anything. Sothing to make my brain stop replaying those images. Sothing to make the pain go away, even for a little while.
My eyes fell on my phone.
Rico.
Training. Fighting. Pain I could control. Pain with a purpose.
I grabbed my phone before I could second-guess myself and pulled up his contact.
He answered on the second ring. "Sera! What’s up? You okay? You sound rough."
"I’m fine," I lied. My voice ca out hoarse and broken. "I need more fights."
"More fights? You’ve already got two scheduled for this month."
"I need more." The words ca out desperate. Frantic. "As many as you can get . "
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