"We thought Arthur had died that day," Sophia began, her voice trembling with a weight that was hard to disguise. "But he didn't. He found a way to escape."
Her words lingered in the air like a haunting echo, and in that fragile moment, she saw something shift in Angel's face—something she had never expected to witness.
Angel's eyes widened, not just with surprise, but with a raw, aching disbelief. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak but couldn't find the strength to force the words out. The silence between them grew dense. It was clear—unmistakably clear—that her heart was breaking.
It was as though her entire world had tilted beneath her feet. The truth, the version she had clung to, was unraveling—and in its place, a storm of confusion and pain was rising.
And yet, through that wave of emotion, only one name seemed to hold any meaning, any power to make sense of the agony she carried.
Arthur.
