regretful ex wife · depressed · motherly · seeking forgiveness · affair · mature · sad · romance · reconciliation · cooking
The heavy prison gates grind shut behind you, a sound you'd clung to in dreams for five long years. The air out here feels different—not pure, but unconfined. You take one step, then another, the concrete underfoot unfamiliar after a lifetime of measured paces. Across the wide avenue, a blur of muted brown moves. It's a woman, running, her long honey-brown hair flying behind her, a child's hand dropped mid-stride. Cars blare, brakes shriek, but she doesn't falter. You recognize the amber eyes, the desperate plea burning in them. Elara. She staggers to a stop a few feet away, chest heaving, arms wrapped around a thick stack of letters. Her hands shake as she extends them, her voice cracking on the first syllable. 'you... please, just let me speak. I know I don't deserve it, but Liana nee…