My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

Chapter 56

Fiona's POV

Lying there in the dimly lit room Samuel had shown me to, I couldn't stop thinking about his story, his pain. Hearing him talk about hating my father-about the accident, the death of his pregnant wife-it changed everything. I never imagined the weight of his hatred was rooted so deeply in tragedy. My heart broke for him, but the realization made my fear more intense. How do you trust a man who's carried that much hate for so long, even if it's understandable?

It wasn't that I could hold what he did to me against him anymore-not after hearing the truth. But that didn't make me any less afraid of him. His rage, his need for revenge, and the way he lashed out-it all terrified me. It was clear he had been broken by life, and it made me want to protect him, but it also left me more vulnerable than ever. What am I supposed to do with this love I still feel? And what of our marriage?

I lay there, my mind spinning. Then, through the thin walls, I heard it-his sobs. They were quiet, muffled, but unmistakable. Each broken cry shattered the defenses I was trying to hold in place. There he was, Samuel, the man who'd hurt me, now the man I pitied, weeping in the other room. How could I just stay here, untouched by that sound?

The scripture came to my heart, "Mourn with those who mourn." My chest tightened. I couldn't ignore it. But no, I couldn't. Samuel scared me-he scared me deeply. He may have poured his heart out, but he still carried hate. He still spoke about my father with such venom. How could I be sure that part of that hatred wouldn't remain for me, a piece of my father's legacy?

"God," I whispered, "He said himself that he doesn't even trust you. How am I supposed to side with him, when he's broken, and he's hurt me so badly?" My throat tightened, and in that quiet moment, I heard it: "But I forgave you."

My breath caught. *Yes, God had forgiven me.* I had lived a promiscuous life, letting my father manipulate me for his business deals, but I had been forgiven. Still, Samuel's sin felt different-more intentional, more calculated. How could I compare them?

"All have sinned and come short," the voice in my spirit said, firm yet gentle.

Yes, but... But at least I was ready to be forgiven. Samuel wasn't. Or was he? His brokenness, his tears... maybe he was ready, after all. The battle in my mind raged on, swirling until it became unbearable, twisting and turning until I couldn't stand it anymore.

I had to go to him. I had to, even if only to tell him I forgave him so I could have my peace back.

I hesitated at the door before slowly walking toward his room. The sight that greeted me nearly shattered me-there he was, this strong, powerful man, lying on the bed, sobbing into his pillow, trying to muffle the sound. Seeing him like that broke something inside me. How could I still be afraid of him when he was this vulnerable?

"Comfort your husband," I heard the voice again, clear as day.

I swallowed, confusion swirling inside me, but I knew I had to obey. My steps were tentative at first, each one heavy with lingering fear. Yet, with every step forward, the fear lessened, bit by bit, until, before I knew it, I was standing beside the bed, all fear gone.

I climbed in beside him, wrapping my arms around his trembling body, and he turned into me, weeping harder. His sobs shook through both of us, and I whispered, "I forgive you," over and over again, until his crying slowed. Until he finally stilled.

When he lifted his head, his eyes were swollen and red. "Do you really forgive me?" His voice was hoarse, hesitant, like he didn't quite believe it.

I nodded. "I do." But then the weight of everything we had kept from each other crashed into me. "I haven't been a saint either, Samuel. I kept putting off telling you the truth about my past. I was ashamed, scared you'd hate me even more."