My Husband Chose Her Dogs Over Me

Chapter 8

"Let me go, Franco!" I fought with every ounce of strength, but his grip was unbreakable.

His scalding tears soaked through my shirt, sending chills down my back.

"Mara... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"

Sorry? It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did.

My throat burned as I forced the words out, voice thick with tears. "Franco, please... just let me go. For our ten years together. For the three children I gave you. Just let me go."

He went rigid. Then, with a heavy thud, he collapsed to his knees.

One hand clung desperately to mine while the other struck his own face—hard. Again. And again.

"I don't deserve forgiveness. I'm a monster. I failed you. I failed our kids..."

The sharp slap of skin echoed between us.

I watched, numb. My voice came out icy. "What's the point, Franco? Can Alec come back? Can our babies—who never even got to open their eyes—come back? Tell me, what good does this do now?"

His grip slackened.

Defeated, his head dropped, eyes hollow.

I didn't look back.

Lost in grief, I barely noticed the person I bumped into on the way home.

"Sorry! I wasn't paying attention—"

"Mara?" A warm, familiar voice cut through the fog. "Is that really you?"

Chester. My high school classmate.

A little boy, maybe four or five, peeked shyly from behind him.

"This is my son," Chester said before I could speak. Then, quieter: "His mother passed earlier this year. He... doesn't talk much now."

My chest ached. So young. Younger than Alec had been. Did he even understand his mother was gone forever?

"I've got an emergency at work," Chester said urgently. "I know it's sudden, but—could you watch Gian for a bit?"

I knelt, offering my hand. After a pause, the boy placed his tiny fingers in mine.

"Gian, want to go play with Auntie?"

He nodded, his round face lighting up just enough to soften the weight in my chest.

We went to the amusement park. His laughter—bright, carefree—stirred memories of Alec. By the time Chester returned, Gian was curled sleepily in my arms.

Over dinner, Chester hesitated. "Mrs. Walter mentioned... you're divorced now."

I didn't flinch. "I left him because he got all three of our children killed. That's not something I can forgive."

"Mara..." He exhaled. "What you've been through..." A pause. Then, softer: "This might sound random, but... back then, did you ever... like me?"

I froze.

There'd been something, once. But years had dulled it.

"I looked for you in college," he admitted. "But you were already with someone."

Even after I got home, his words lingered. That night, I found myself replaying old stories—ones I'd never heard until now.