His Regret, Our Irrevocable Goodbye

a P

n my chest. Calvin' s threats, his blatant dismissal of Leo' s suffering, his

recious artifact, leaving me standing alone in th

a raw, guttural soun

l partially turned. Georgia peeked over h

echoing in the quiet hallway. "You and I are don

iffened. "Alea, don't be dramatic. I know you're

nearby cart. I grabbed it, the cold metal a comfort in my shaking hand. I flung it. It crashed against the w

mean every single word, Calvin! You chose her! Over your son! O

own. This is irrational. I'm taking care of Georgia. She's unwell. And Le

lvin! You made him scream! And you stood there, comforting her, while our son

t lightheaded, but the

er to a twisted sort of concern. "Alea, you're hurt. Let me

"No! Don't leave me, Calvin! She's crazy! She's going to hurt me!"

o Georgia. That moment of hesi

s you. It's your blind devotion to this woman who abandoned your dying son, who th

th panic, met mine. She

h, a feral scream tearing from her throat. She cl

y rage. I shoved her back, hard. She stumbled, fall

. "You didn't forget Aiden! You abandoned him! You left him to die, and then y

head! It hurts!" She began to hit herself, a frantic, theatrical

in her flailing hands. "Georgia! Stop it! Don't do that!" He was in

once. His entire world revolved

desperation. "Just... give us some space. Let me handle this. I

eak and trembling. My head spun. The blood from my scalp was trickling do

g" and clutching her head, shot me a look of pure, unadulter

this cycle would never end as long as I r

ay she' d "accidentally" delete Leo's game saves. The way she'd "forget" to pick him up from school, l

llingness to sacrifice my son's well-being for her emotional comfort. His guilt

"Go take care of your precious Georgia. But whe

I swear. I'll send her away. I'll make sure she gets help. Just... don't leave me." He extended a

, the words cold and final.

n turned his gaze back to me, his hand still outst

f the wall, my legs unsteady. "I'm

. He looked like he wanted to say more, to promise more, bu

lutching at the memory of a woman who had never truly loved him, sacr

emptiness. The pain wasn't gone, but it was different. It was the pain

al. But it was made. And