She stood there, leaning against the door, like a hurricane about to strike what little was left of him. Yet at the same time, there was something in her eyes—an unmistakable trace of shock.

Because Zoe froze too.

She had come fueled by anger, ready to scream, to accuse, to wound. But what she saw in that room was a broken man. A fragile body. A face where all happiness had been erased, replaced by a deep, hollow emptiness. The man she had once loved was unrecognizable. And somehow, that hurt her too.

She took a deep breath, as if trying to tame the storm raging in her chest. But her eyes showed no mercy.

“Don’t call me that,” she said coldly. “So this is it…” she murmured, her voice low but heavy with bitterness. “Even after everything, you still want to control me? You thought this would soften me?”

Arthur stared at the ceiling for a second, trying to breathe, trying not to scream his pain, not to beg for forgiveness. But he couldn’t retreat. Not after everything he had already done