She had only walked a few steps before herposurepletely shattered. Leaning against a wall, she came to a stop.


    A low rumble of thunder echoed overhead, and without warning, the sky opened up. A torrential downpour began.


    She raised a hand to her face, her cheeks slick with moisture. She couldn''t tell if it was rain or tears, only that her heart was being torn apart, piece by piece, with every agonizing breath. The pain was so intense it felt as if countless hands were pulling at her heart from all directions, trying to rip it open.


    She slid down the wall, crouching on the pavement as heavy raindrops pelted her, soaking her hair and clothes. Staring at her own pathetic reflection in a puddle, she let out another cold, emptyugh.


    Every time she thought Lionel had finally listened, every time she allowed herself to believe he might actually change, reality would p her across the face.


    The man would never change. He would always be this way.


    The sound of his car speeding away reyed in her mind, a relentless echo of his priorities.


    She didn''t know how long she knelt there before she slowly, unsteadily, got to her feet and started walking toward the main road. The world swayed around her, each step feeling like she was treading on cotton. She nearly fell several times. Just as she tried to steady herself, her vision blurred, and the world began to spin.


    "Hannah-!"


    In the moment before she cked out, she thought she saw a familiar figure running desperately toward her. But before she could make out who it was, everything went dark.


    When she woke up again, she was in an unfamiliar room.


    "Where am I?"


    She pushed herself up, looking around. It wasn''t a hospital; it was a private residence.


    Hannah slipped out of bed, her feet finding a pair of slippers that fit perfectly. She walked out into the main living area and saw a figure in the open-n kitchen.


    Lionel?


    No, it didn''t look like him.


    She squinted, a sense of disbelief dawning on her. "Quennel?"


    Hearing his name, Quennel turned around.


    "Are you hungry? I just finished making some soup. Come and eat," he said, carrying two bowls to the dining table. "I had a doctor look at you while you were asleep. You


    Kidnap till have some


    never fully recovered from the You


    inmmation, so you need to rest and take it easy."


    Hannah frowned and walked to the table. The aroma of a nourishing chicken noodle soup filled the air, and her stomach rumbled in response. Embarrassed, she lowered her head and pulled out a chair.


    Quennel took off his apron, setting it aside as he sat down opposite her.


    "Why were you out in the rain? Did Lionel upset you again?" he asked, his voice gentle butced with


    No matter how awful he is, concern. you can''t take it, take out on your own body. Do you really think torturing yourself like this will make him feel a single ounce of remorse?"


    He sighed, his gaze softening. "I''ve already called your office and told them you''re taking a sick day. Just rest here today. Your medicine is on the nightstand; make sure you take it on schedule."


    His quiet, steady stream of concern was a balm to her frayed nerves. It had been so long since anyone other than Mrs. Rosenberg Sr. had shown her such kindness. A warmth spread through her chest.


    "Why are you crying?" Quennel reached across the table and gently wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "If you keep crying, the pastas will get soggy, and there''s nothing else to eat in the house."


    Hannah froze, momentarily forgetting to pull away as the back of his fingers brushed against her cheek. It wasn''t until he retracted his hand and teased her again that she snapped back to reality, a faint blush


    creeping up her ears.


    Embarrassed, she ducked her head and began eating in small, quiet bites, too


    flustered to speak.