The Betrayed Bride

The late-night cries of a six-month-old baby echoed softly through the dimly lit apartment. Amid the stillness, Meera sat on the edge of the bed, gently rocking her daughter in her arms. Her eyes, heavy with exhaustion, held a kind of love only a mother could understand-selfless, patient, unwavering.
The world outside moved on-cars honked, alarms rang, people rushed-but for Meera, time stood still in that tiny nursery. Her husband, Rohit, hadn't come home yet. Again.
She glanced at the clock. 12:47 a.m.
Another "late-night meeting," he had said. Another night she whispered lullabies alone.
She pressed a soft kiss to her daughter's forehead and tried not to let her heart feel the cold emptiness beside her.
"This is just a phase," she told herself. "He's just stressed. Things will be better soon."
But deep down, beneath layers of denial and devotion, a part of her already knew-something had changed. And soon, her world would never be the same again.