The hardest part wasn't leaving.
It was knowing she'd wake up and think I didn't love her anymore.
That I disappeared like the rest of them.
But I did it because I do love her.
Too much.
Enough to become the villain in her story if it meant she and Max would stay safe.
Carla didn't stop after the condo incident.
After she tried to kill Jaimie.
She went into hiding—her car abandoned, her social media wiped clean, her passport flagged. But the whispers were there. I heard them from my contacts, from the off-the-record security consultant my father hired. She had people. And they were watching.
This wasn't just a bitter ex's tantrum.
This was a calculated descent.
She wanted to destroy everything I had built with Jaimie and Max.
I still hear the words she said in the hospital parking lot two days after the hit-and-run.
"You think hiding her behind your white coat will save her? I gave you that son. I can take him back. I can erase her like she never existed."
She laughed. Like it was a game.
I wanted to wring it out of her—the poison, the pride, the madness—but I knew the system wouldn't protect us if I snapped.
So I had to do the thing I never wanted to do.
Leave.
I forged a letter. Told the hospital I needed an emergency transfer to a provincial outreach program for trauma cases. I wanted them to think I was doing humanitarian work.
I packed one bag. Just scrubs and my violin.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfE60yXmWCT
Didn't take my white coat.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCYtDSixEI3
Didn't take the stuffed dinosaur Max gave me for Christmas.
Because if I brought anything that smelled like home, I'd lose my nerve.
Why didn't I say goodbye?
Because if I saw her face—bruised, stitched, but still smiling at me like I was her whole world—I wouldn't leave.
And if I didn't leave, Carla would win.
I filed an emergency custody suit the moment I arrived in Tuguegarao.
With my legal team's help, I reopened Carla's abandoned parental record, her psychological reports, her criminal involvement in the Dubai scandal, and her missing persons case from years ago.
I knew she had money stashed somewhere.
But I had something stronger.
Proof.
Intent.
And now? A motive: attempted homicide.
I'd make her pay.
Not for me.
But for the woman bleeding on a hospital bed who still chose to forgive life every day.
For Max, who finally had a voice, a mother-figure, and a reason to feel safe.
Some nights I sat alone in the small rented studio, watching the rain fall on rice paddies outside, trying not to look at the empty side of the bed where Jaimie should've been.
I missed her so much it physically hurt.
Her laugh.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAcCBrTiAZa
Her scent after a shower.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtfrZ8U4oH1
The way she always poked my dimple when I was mad.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNrt52LRbay
The way she'd say, "It's okay to fall apart a little. I've held broken things before."
I wrote letters I never sent.
I recorded lullabies on my phone for Max.
I prayed harder than I ever had in my life.
I know she hates me right now.
I'd hate me too.
But I need time.
Just enough to finish this war behind the curtain.
Then I'll come back.
If she still wants me...
I'll fall to my knees and tell her everything.
And if she doesn't?
I'll spend the rest of my life loving her quietly—like I've always done.
15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCKNsjskse4
