Before she left, Selena invited Mia to the house. It was a gesture that surprised them both. They sat together, two women bound by circumstance, their futures irrevocably altered.
"I'm leaving," Selena said, her voice calm. "I don't want to fight over scraps of a life he broke. But I want you to understand something—what we endure, and how we choose to heal, is the legacy we give our children."
Mia nodded, eyes shining with tears. "Thank you," she whispered. "For not hating me."
Selena smiled, a sad, weary smile. "Hate is heavy. I'd rather carry hope." With that, she gathered her things—for the first time, walking towards a future of her own making.
Selena scrolled to her favourite photo—a sunlit path winding through autumn trees, leaves blazing in copper and gold, the trail vanishing into mist. She captioned it:
"Sometimes, the road you trusted to lead you home ends in brambles and thorns. But on the other side, where the path splits and the forest hushes with uncertainty, you find your real strength. To those who walked beside me but left me to bleed: may you one day brave the woods you sent me through. I am not lost. I am forging a new way, for me and the little one who walks with my heart in theirs."
The post blew through her social circle like a chill wind—cryptic to some, painfully clear to others. It was a farewell and a challenge, a metaphor for the betrayal that had cut her adrift. Yet, it was also a vow: she would not be defined by their abandonment, but by her resilience and hope.