The atmosphere in the VIP room felt heavy — a mix of sterilized chill and the kind of regret that clings to silence. The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the gaps between their words, steady yet cruel, reminding them both how fragile everything had become.
Eliana stood by the tall window, framed against the London skyline. Beyond her, the city glittered — the Thames carving through the streets like a ribbon of liquid silver, the lights winking like faraway promises she no longer believed in. Her silhouette glowed faintly in the pale afternoon light, the curve of her belly gentle beneath her folded arms. Her honey eyes, once bright and trusting, now held the weight of too many heartbreaks and sleepless nights. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she didn't bother to wipe it away.
When she finally turned, her voice came soft — almost too soft — yet sharp enough to cut through the steady hum of machines. "I don't think I can trust you again with my heart, Rafael."
