"Some wounds never truly heal—sometimes, forgiveness only teaches us how to live with the scars."
*****
(Brianna's POV)
Life is mysterious.
No one really knows what waits beyond tomorrow.
Sometimes everything falls into place as we wish…
but other times, it bends so far off course that we begin to wonder—
is this fate, or just time playing its cruel little games?
I never thought the man who once became the reason I walked away…
would suddenly find his way back into my life.
Seven years is a long time.
And yet, in a single breath, Brayden Roderigo returned—
bringing with him a past I thought had been buried with my foolish decisions from youth.
And worse—he knows.
He knows why I left.
As if the years between us never even existed.
That name still feels both foreign and familiar on my tongue.
Brayden Roderigo.
Once, that name meant everything to me.
Now, it's a blend of longing and regret that stings every time I think of it.
I can't understand him.
Back then, when I loved him with everything I had, he was cold.
And now—when I've built walls to protect myself—he dares to step into my life again,
as if he still has a right to be there.
I still remember what happened this afternoon.
We argued. Over something meaningless—Arthur.
And somehow, Brayden accused me of being too close to him.
It reminded me of another fight — seven years ago, under the rain outside my father's house. He said I was too stubborn; I said he was too cold. I remember his hand, half-reaching toward me, then falling to his side. We didn't say sorry that day. We just let silence do the talking. Maybe that's where everything began to break.
How ironic.
The man who never cared who I talked to back then—
now burns with jealousy over a conversation.
He used to be distant, composed, untouchable.
Now, his eyes, his tone, even his anger…
They carry something different.
Something raw.
And I don't know whether that change should bring me comfort—
or fear.
*****
Tonight, I sit in the living room, my laptop open before me.
Numbers from the restaurant's financial report blur across the screen,
but my mind is miles away.
My focus is trapped somewhere else—
in that heated argument, in the way our voices rose,
in the anger that trembled between us.
And his eyes…
God, those eyes.
So full of rage and something else I couldn't name.
I didn't know whether I wanted to slap him—or pull him into my arms.
A sigh escapes me.
I shouldn't have yelled at him.
I shouldn't have said those words I can't take back.
I'm not that naïve girl anymore.
I'm a mother. A grown woman.
I should know better than to lose control.
But facing Brayden—
always tears down every wall I've built.
I inhale deeply, trying to steady my thoughts.
Guilt and old wounds mix together in my chest like fire and ash.
There's a small part of me that wants to say I'm sorry.
But there's another—louder—part that says don't you dare.
Because seven years later, the wound still bleeds when I touch it.
I know I wasn't innocent.
I was the one who pushed too hard.
I begged him to stay, even forced an engagement he never wanted.
I can still remember how proud I was wearing that ring—
as if love could be proven with something cold and glittering.
I didn't care if he hated it.
All I wanted was to feel loved.
And maybe… that was my greatest mistake.
At least I returned the ring before I left.
At least I gave back something that was never truly mine.
Now, thinking about it, I can only smile bitterly.
Once, I loved him blindly.
Now, I've learned that love isn't about keeping—it's about letting go,
even when your heart refuses to.
If not for all that pain, I wouldn't be who I am today.
And if I hadn't lost Brayden,
I never would've found Briella—
the only reason I'm still standing.
Sometimes I wonder if that's what life really is—
a trade between pain and purpose.
You lose something that once defined you,
only to find something that teaches you how to breathe again.
And maybe that's what forgiveness really is.
Not peace.
Just learning how to breathe through the pain.
*****
Just as the weight of his memory began to fade, a soft voice broke through the quiet.
"Mommy!"
The small voice pulls me back to the present.
Ella stands by the doorway, wearing star-patterned pajamas,
her hair messy, her eyes sleepy yet soft and full of light.
"What is it, sweetheart?" I ask, closing my laptop.
"Done with your homework?"
"Yes, Mommy. I'm sleepy." She yawns adorably.
"That's new. You usually hate going to bed early."
She gives a tiny smile.
"Maybe because I waited too long for you to pick me up earlier."
My heart aches as I pull her into a hug.
"I'm sorry, honey. Mommy promises not to be late again."
"It's okay, Mommy."
She looks up at me with those bright, innocent eyes.
"Uncle Ray said adults have to work hard.
If they don't, they won't have money.
But he also said money can't buy happiness."
I freeze.
Her words sink deep.
Brayden.
He taught her something I hadn't even had the chance to.
And somehow, that makes my chest tighten with something I can't name—
part pride, part tenderness, part fear.
"Mommy?" she calls softly, tugging my hand.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"I'm going to bed now. You can finish your work,
but don't stay up too late, okay?"
I smile. "Want Mommy to tuck you in?"
She shakes her head proudly.
"No need. I'm a big girl now."
Before I can say another word, she waves.
"Good night, Mommy."
I watch her small back disappear behind her bedroom door.
The silence that follows feels too loud.
Brayden…
That man really has changed.
At least now, he knows how to be gentle—
even if it's not with me.
Still, the thought lingers.
Maybe he's finally learned what love means—
not as a man who claims,
but as a father who gives.
And that realization breaks me in ways I didn't expect.
Because for the first time,
I see a version of him that could've existed—
if only we hadn't fallen apart.
*****
I sit back down and try to focus again,
but only a few minutes pass before my phone vibrates on the table.
Unknown number.
But I know exactly who it is.
Brayden.
Just one message from him—
and I'm pulled straight back into a past I swore I'd never revisit.
> "Good evening, Anna. This is Brayden. I want to apologize for earlier today. I didn't mean to upset you. I just wish you'd pay more attention to your daughter… instead of others."
The words are simple. But they feel… sincere.
I stare at the screen for a long time before replying,
just to show I'm not completely heartless.
But before I can even exhale, another message comes in.
> "I won't interfere again, as long as you agree to be my wife."
My heart stops.
> "Don't be ridiculous! Who would even want to marry you?!"
> "Not yet. But I'll make sure you do. You're already the mother of my child, aren't you?"
I go still.
How can someone speak with such certainty—after everything?
We're not the same Brianna and Brayden anymore.
I'm no longer the girl who waited for a love that never came.
And he's no longer the man I can blame—
but not yet the man I can trust, either.
Minutes later, my phone rings.
It's him.
I hesitate before answering.
His voice is calm, slightly rough—
the kind that carries both guilt and longing.
He says he just wants to hear my voice.
But I know better.
He wants to talk about Ella.
And that's when I realize—
to him, I'm still no one.
I end the call with trembling hands,
holding back tears until the silence becomes unbearable.
Then they fall—one after another.
I don't even know why I'm crying.
Is it anger? Disappointment?
Or is it because…
I still love him, even after all this time?
Brayden might have changed.
But my trust—
it's shattered beyond repair.
Before I can gather myself, another message appears.
This time—from Anya.
> "Good evening, Ms. Brianna.
Mr. Brayden's assistant told me that he plans to visit the orphanage every day."
"He said he just wants to make sure all donations are properly used."
"Oh, and he also volunteered to help take care of the kids—personally."
"He'll start tomorrow."
I sighed. I didn't even know what to say. A few days ago, Brayden's company had agreed to become a donor to the foundation.
I set the phone down, staring at the dim ceiling,
letting my tears fall silently.
The night feels endless.
And somehow, this silence…
feels like another kind of regret—
the kind that never really ends.
Because maybe forgiveness doesn't mean peace.
Maybe it just means learning how to live
with the ache that never leaves.
And right now, as the city outside hums in quiet rhythm,
I realize something terrifying—
I forgave him long ago.
But forgiving doesn't stop me from bleeding.