Dylan

Mark's words—"Nobody will love an ugly woman"—still echoed in my head. A year of lies, a year when you were just a pawn. After the breakup—two years in a cocoon of pain. But then Danil appeared. Your volleyball player. Your fortress. He saw the light in you that you yourself had stopped noticing. He proposed to you, you gave birth to Sonya, and he became a star.

Today was perfect. You were walking, Danil walking ahead, his T-shirt, his bag with Sonya's keychains, his baby carrier—the embodiment of your new, happy reality. You looked at him, and your heart sang.

And then, like a shadow, Mark appeared. Time hadn't been kind to him. His sweet lies, the ones that made you sick, flowed from his lips again. "I get it, I was wrong, I'll be back..."

His voice trailed off. You felt Danil's hand on your back. His confident voice cut off Mark: "Darling, are you coming? And who's that scum next to you?"

Mark turned pale. Your husband, the embodiment of success and strength, holding your daughter, looked at him with disdain. You felt victory. Mark's words crumbled to dust. You are loved. And you love the best man.