Elena. While nursing my broken heart, I still struggled so hard to comprehend Deangelo's hurtful behavior towards me. His coldness and dismissive words echoed in my thoughts, a constant reminder of the rift that had formed between us. The children, always perceptive, sensed my sadness. They attributed it to my worry for their father's well-being, a reasonable assumption. However, they couldn't grasp the depth of my concerns, the heavy uncertainty weighing on my heart. Their innocent attempts to comfort me evoked a mix of gratitude and sorrow. Diego, the youngest and most observant of both of them, approached me with his wide, innocent eyes filled with genuine concern. "Don't worry, Aunt Elena," he reassured me, brimming with hope. "Daddy is strong. He'll get better soon." His words acted as a soothing salve to my wounded soul, a glimmer of hope amidst my inner turmoil. A faint smile curved my lips, and I couldn't help but chuckle at his earnestness. Diego's innocence brought a ray o

Deangelo. I woke up early in the morning, still feeling groggy from sleep. Sofia was by my side, which brought me comfort, but something deep down felt off. My body longed to transform into my wolf form, to experience the freedom and power it brought, but my injuries from the accident held me back. It frustrated me that I couldn't go for a run and release the pent-up energy inside me. While I lay there, my mind drifted back to the incident that left me in this state. The memories were fragmented and confusing, like scattered puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together. I saw glimpses of twisted metal, screeching tires, and blinding lights, and the pain I felt at that time, both physical and emotional, was overwhelming. I desperately wanted to regain control over my body, to feel the strength surging through my veins once again. But the doctors warned me not to rush the healing process, as it could have serious consequences. So, I reluctantly accepted my current condition, even thou

Elena. I woke up to the gentle sunlight peeking through my curtains, casting a warm glow in my room. Blinking away sleep, I noticed a beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting on my bed. A small note accompanied the flowers, and my heart raced as I reached for it. The note read, "This is to dry your tears." Mixed emotions swirled within me—curiosity, hope, and a hint of apprehension. Who could have left me this thoughtful gift? And why? With the bouquet of roses in my hands, I felt a surge of anticipation. For a brief moment, I dared to imagine that Deangelo had regained his lost memories, that he remembered the love we once shared. Hope flickered in my eyes as I hurried downstairs, enveloped in the sweet scent of the roses, as if they held promises of something new. But as I descended the stairs, my excitement faded into confusion and disbelief. The house buzzed with excitement, guests chatting and laughing, their faces filled with joy and anticipation. Something big was happening, but

Deangelo. The house buzzed with excitement as everyone got ready for the upcoming wedding. People were putting up decorations, inviting guests, and there was a general feeling of joy and anticipation. But amidst all the hustle and bustle, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of indifference. Instead of feeling happy and excited about the wedding, it only reminded me of the emptiness I carried within. My son Diego was especially thrilled about the celebration. He had a sparkle in his eyes as he helped decorate the venue and talked enthusiastically about the upcoming festivities. Seeing his joy made my heart warm, and I couldn't help but smile at his contagious excitement. I wanted to share in his happiness, to be carried away by the joy that surrounded us, but a heavy feeling of emptiness held me back. As I watched Diego running around, his laughter filling the air, I couldn't shake the sense of detachment. It felt as if I were just a spectator in my own life, disconnected from the e

Deangelo. I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding as fragments of the dream lingered in my mind. It was her again, that woman who always seemed to occupy my thoughts. We were strolling along the beach, her touch sending shivers down my spine. But just as quickly as the dream began, it transformed into a harsh reality—I was in Elena's room, reliving the kiss we had shared. In that moment, I couldn't ignore the overwhelming desire that coursed through me. The guilt and shame that usually accompanied thoughts of Elena seemed to fade away, replaced by an insatiable longing. I wanted more—more of her touch, more of her presence. The line between my dreams and reality blurred, and I found myself succumbing to the irresistible temptation. I reached out, capturing her lips with mine, and the kiss deepened, surpassing the point where Elena had stopped our connection. I was consumed by the sensations, the warmth and eagerness of the person beside me. But as our passion intensified, I r