One sentence from a kidnapper, and Yves believed it without question, moving quickly to rescue her.
But with Lionel, call after call had only brought more despair.
Even if you don’t love someone… shouldn’t you at least have a shred of decency?
She had saved his life once. Why couldn’t he bring himself to save hers?
Why?
Fat tears fell onto the blanket, one after another, soaking a large patch, but she couldn’t stop them.
Yves didn’t say anything. He just handed her a tissue.
He didn't know what had happened to her, but seeing her silent tears, he knew exactly who had hurt her.
The hospital room was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind outside.
That night, after Yves left, Hannah was alone in the room.
She couldn't sleep. She sat up in bed, hugging her knees, her head resting against them as she stared at the crescent moon outside the window.
Perhaps she had cried too much over the past two days, been hurt too deeply. In this moment, her heart was surprisingly calm. Her red-rimmed eyes couldn’t produce another tear.
The phone on her bedside table vibrated again and again. The caller ID, [Lionel], lit up the screen repeatedly, but she never reached for it.
The person whose call she once desperately longed for was now the person whose call she most despised.
She glanced at the phone as it rang again, then looked away without a flicker of interest.
The next morning, Yves arrived with Anna.


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