Gabriel's Obsession

Fractured Bonds

Time had passed, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand— slow, relentless, and utterly indifferent to my suffering. The days bled into one another, a monotonous march of forced cohabitation within these walls that once held echoes of love. Gabriel and I moved like ghosts in our shared space, existing together yet feeling worlds apart. A stranger now inhabited the body of the man I once loved.

Night after night, I lay beside him, my back turned, my heart weighed down by a grief that words could never encapsulate. The wounds carved into my spirit had not healed, and I wasn't sure they ever would. His betrayal was a wound that refused to scab over, bleeding anew each time I recalled the moment my world crumbled.

Gabriel had betrayed me, not just as a husband, but as the man I had foolishly trusted. And though he tried—tried to speak to me, to mend what he had shattered—his apologies felt like empty syllables lost in the abyss of my anguish. His words no longer carried weight, not when his actions had already spoken so cruelly.

Yet, what puzzled me most was his distance from Rose and Luna. He observed them from afar, his expression unreadable, a man hesitant to reach for something that should have been instinctual. When he thought no one was watching, I caught glimpses of him standing in the nursery doorway, his gaze lingering on them with something between longing and reluctance. As if they were an enigma he couldn't solve.

Perhaps it was guilt. Perhaps it was disappointment.

He had given them names—without me. A decision he made on his own, as if I were nothing more than an afterthought. It was yet another reminder of how little I mattered in the grand scheme of his family's expectations.

His family.

They despised my daughters.

They treated them as though they carried a curse, rather than being a blessing. My mother-in-law refused to even acknowledge them, never once stepping foot in the nursery, never once offering to hold them. My sisters-in-law barely concealed their distaste, their snide remarks slipping into casual conversation whenever they thought I wasn't listening.

The only solace I found was in Mother Grace. She, at least, treated my daughters with the love they deserved, helping me care for them when my body was still weak from childbirth. She was my anchor in a world determined to drown me.

And then there was Anna.

Anna, the woman who had once taunted me with her cruel smirks and venomous words, had fallen silent since the day I struck her. I knew better than to believe she had conceded. No, Anna was the type to retreat, to plot in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to sink her fangs in once more. She was silent now, but a storm was brewing beneath her composed facade.

I could feel it.

I knew I had to be careful.

The twins had finally drifted into slumber, their soft, rhythmic breathing filling the nursery with an air of peace. I traced my fingers over their delicate features, my heart swelling with an overwhelming love that eclipsed everything else.

"I will protect you," I whispered to them, pressing a gentle kiss to their foreheads. "From everyone. From everything."

With one last lingering glance at my sleeping daughters, I stepped out of the nursery, feeling a rare sense of tranquility settle over me.

But it was fleeting.

I returned to my room, my gaze landing on the full-length mirror that stood by the vanity. The reflection staring back at me was one I barely recognized.

Gone was the girl who had once carried innocence in her eyes. In her place stood a woman marked by motherhood, by pain, by resilience.

My fingers hesitantly traced the faded scar that stretched across my lower abdomen, the tangible evidence of the battle I had endured to bring my daughters into this world. A sacrifice I would make a thousand times over, despite the toll it had taken on my body.