shards of the broken glass from last night still scattered on the floor. Her Ivorian bangle clinked softly against the cup, a fragile tether to Abidjan's safety. She touche

k of irritation. "You didn't clean this up?" he

u do all da

ping back. Her voice was small, her bod

e always making excuses, that is what you are

enough pressure without you dragging me down. Yo

h instinctively. "Please, Olivier, let's not fight,"

"Careful now?" he roared. "You think I need

e counter before she fell to the floor with a cry. Pain shot through her, sharp and searing, radiating from he

h. The door slammed, leaving her alone, curled on the cold floor, her bangle glinting through her tears. The pain

e could do." Her baby was gone. Grief crashed over her, a huge wave that stole her breath. She turned her head, tears soaking the pillow, her bangle a cold weight on h

irmation of what she'd feared: Olivier didn't care. Her marriage wasn't love, it was a prison, and her loss was the price. She couldn't stay, not like

Grief and anger wrestled with despair, while the weight of her reality threatened to consume her. The silence that fol

s Ariane, she's in the hospital," she said, her voice breaking. "She was pregnant and h

an sweeping the floor, her resolve steel. "Enough. We'll talk to her and suggest getting her a place of her own; my child cannot be far from me and

r eyes. "Yes, Maman. She ne

shoulder, her voice steady. "

r window felt like a cruel mockery, its glow unreachable. She clutched her bangle, tracing its patterns, wh

en. Ariane hesitated, her hand shaking as she answered. "Yasmine... oh, Ma

Maman and I... we're getting you an apartment of your own in Paris, away from him

that I love you. After securing an apartment of your own when you're out of the ho

her like a warm embrace, a stark contrast to the cold hospital walls. Yet the weight of her decision p

cape Olivier-a faint glimmer of hope in her darkness. But as she looked at the empty hospit