For three days, I lay in that hospital bed.

Three days listening to the sound of machines keeping me alive.

Three days watching doctors and nurses move around me like I was made of glass.

But inside…

I was already broken.

The old me had died the moment Pakorn lifted that knife.

The woman who believed in him.

The woman who waited years for his love.

The woman who thought becoming his wife meant becoming his family.

She died that night.

Along with our children.

When the doctor finally allowed me to leave the intensive care unit, everyone expected me to collapse.

To cry.

To scream.

To ask why.

But I didn’t.

Because there was a strange calm inside me.

A calm that only appeared after someone had already lost everything.

Pakorn came every day.

At first, I refused to see him.

Then one afternoon, I allowed him inside.

Not because I forgave him.

Because I wanted to see what kind of man he had become.

He entered carrying another bouquet.

White roses.

The same flowers he brought the first time.

He placed them on the table.

His eyes were swollen.

He hadn’t slept.

“Yuna…”

I didn’t correct him when he called my name softly.

I just looked at him.

He stopped.

Maybe he expected tears.

Maybe he expected anger.

Maybe he expected the woman who always loved him to still exist.

But she didn’t.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice broke.

“I didn’t know.”

I stared at him.

“You didn’t know what?”

His lips trembled.

“That you were pregnant.”

“That they were my children.”

I looked away.

“Would it have changed anything?”

The question destroyed him.

Because he knew the answer.

If Clora had cried that night…

If Clora had pointed at me again…

If he believed she was in danger…

He would have done the same thing.

The silence was his answer.

Pakorn covered his face.

“I thought she was hurt.”

I laughed softly.

A sound without happiness.

“She had a scratch.”

“I had two stab wounds.”

His entire body froze.

I continued:

“She cried.”

“I bled.”

“She needed protection.”

“I needed a husband.”

My voice remained calm.

“But you chose her.”

Pakorn fell to his knees beside the bed.

For the first time in our marriage…

I saw him broken.

But strangely…

I felt nothing.

“I will spend my whole life making up for this.”

I looked at him.

“No.”

He looked up.

“No?”

“You don’t get to make this about you.”

“You lost your children.”

“I lost my children, my marriage, and the person I was before that night.”

His eyes turned red.

“Yuna…”

“Leave.”

That was the first time I asked him to leave.

And he actually did.

But I knew it wasn’t over.

Because three days later…

I received a visit.

Clora Hayes.

She walked into my hospital room wearing a simple white dress.

Almost innocent.

Almost fragile.

The same image she had used for years.

She sat beside me.

“I heard you woke up.”

I didn’t answer.

She looked at the flowers on the table.

Then smiled faintly.

“You must hate me.”

I looked at her.

“You came here to ask?”

She lowered her eyes.

“I never wanted this to happen.”

A lie.

A beautiful, carefully prepared lie.

“I only wanted Pakorn to care about me again.”

I stared at her.

“Again?”

Her expression changed.

Just slightly.

Enough.

So I noticed.

“You knew.”

She remained silent.

“You knew he was married.”

“Yes.”

“You knew I was pregnant.”

A longer silence.

Then she whispered:

“I suspected.”

I felt my fingers tighten around the blanket.

Not because I was surprised.

Because hearing it from her mouth confirmed something.

She wasn’t a victim.

She was someone who knew exactly where she was standing.

“You came here to apologize?”

She looked at me.

“No.”

That answer surprised me.

Then she smiled.

“I came because I wanted to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Pakorn will never leave me.”

I looked at her quietly.

She continued:

“He loved me first.”

“The first love is always special.”

I almost smiled.

Because she still didn’t understand.

The person she was fighting for…

was no longer someone I wanted.

“Clora.”

She looked at me.

“You won.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“What?”

“You got the man who chose you.”

I turned my head toward the window.

“But you also got the man who destroyed everything because of you.”

Her smile disappeared.

For the first time…

she looked uncertain.

That was when I understood.

Clora didn’t love Pakorn.

She loved winning.

She loved proving that she could take something away from me.

But she had forgotten one thing.

She didn’t steal my happiness.

She destroyed a cage.

Two weeks later, I was discharged.

I didn’t return to the Boriphat residence.

I went to my father’s old house outside the city.

There, I opened the small box my mother had left me before she passed away.

Inside was a letter.

A letter she wrote before her death.

My hands trembled as I opened it.

My mother’s handwriting appeared.

“My daughter.”

“If one day someone hurts you so deeply that you forget your own worth, remember this.”

“Your life does not end because someone chooses not to love you.”

“It begins when you choose yourself.”

I held the letter against my chest.

And for the first time since losing my babies…

I cried.

Not for Pakorn.

Not for the marriage.

For myself.

The next morning, I made three phone calls.

The first was to my lawyer.

The second was to the hospital requesting all medical records.

The third…

was to a private investigator.

Because there was one question I needed answered.

Why had Clora appeared that night?

Why had she come to my house exactly when Pakorn was with me?

And why did she know so much about my pregnancy?

Three days later, my investigator returned.

He placed a folder in front of me.

“Mrs. Boriphat.”

“There is something you need to see.”

I opened the first page.

My expression changed.

The second page.

My hands became cold.

Because inside the file were messages between Clora and someone else.

Messages sent before she came to my house.

One sentence appeared again and again:

“Once Yuna disappears, Pakorn will finally belong to me.”

I stared at the screen.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The final message had been sent only hours before the attack.

And the person who replied…

was someone I knew very well.

Someone from Pakorn’s own family.

Someone who had smiled at me during our wedding.

Someone who had held my hands and called me her daughter.

I slowly closed the folder.

The revenge I wanted…

was no longer only against Pakorn.

Because the truth was much bigger.

The man who stabbed me was only one piece of the plan.

And now…

I was going to find everyone who had helped destroy my children.