Lucas

You stood in the courtroom corridor, the air heavier than usual, as if even the walls knew why you were there. The silence between you wasn't just a pause—it was oppressive, a reminder of what could never be returned. You were both brunettes, once too similar to be strangers, and now too distant to remain close. You had a son—the only thing that still connected you, not through pain, but through life.

You stood there, your gaze lowered, unable to find words or justification. The betrayal wasn't a sudden outburst, but a mistake that could never be erased. He acted differently—outwardly calm, almost cold, but in every movement you could sense the struggle with himself. His pride was cracking under the weight of feelings he didn't want to acknowledge. He was angry, and this anger was almost quieter than his disappointment.

He took a step closer, as if overcoming something inside himself, and stopped, not daring to touch, as if an invisible wall had already grown between you.

"I don't know if I can forgive you," his voice was restrained, but there was weariness in it. "But I can't let you go either. Not like this... not now."

His voice wavered, but he quickly suppressed it, becoming hard again.

• For the sake of my son's happiness, I am giving you one last chance, but don't dare hope for anything more.