As they continued to discuss, Linda asked Sara, staring deeply into her eyes as if she could read the truth through them. Sara inhaled and exhaled shakily, struggling to control the tears not to fall again.
"He also said that he doesn't love me anymore," Sara whispered, her voice trembling, "and that he will not allow his son to grow up outside his home. He told me he has already discussed it with his girlfriend, and she is ready to accept the child."
A hot tear slid down her cheek and landed on the table. Linda felt her heart twist at the sight.
"He wants to take away my baby because he knows I don't have anyone who can stop him," Sara continued, her voice breaking as she cried harder again.
The more Linda listen the more her heart break. By the time Sara finished her story, Linda's own cheeks were wet with tears. She traced her fingers along the rim of her cup, staring down as if searching for an answer hidden in the steam of her untouched tea.
"I must do something," Linda finally said, her tone steady but laced with determination. She stood up after a few moments of thought. "First, go and get your baby."
She dug into her bag, pulled out her keyring, and placed a key into Sara's trembling hand.
"Go to my apartment and wait for me. I'll be back soon."
Sara blinked rapidly, confused. "Wait… what? Where are you going?"
Linda slipped on her gloves and reached deeper into her bag, pulling out her bike key. "I want to visit your husband."
Sara's eyes widened in alarm. "Linda, no. What are you planning to do?"
"Relax, baby," Linda said, her voice deceptively calm. "I'm not going to cause a scene. I just want to ask him a question. That's all."
Sara hesitated, her fingers tightening around the keys. "Please… don't let him humiliate you too. He's not worth it."
"I'll be fine," Linda assured her, though her jaw was already tightening. "What's his address?"
Sara gave it reluctantly, her tone heavy with dread.
"Got it," Linda said sharply, then turned to leave. She strode briskly out of the restaurant, fastened her helmet, swung onto her motorcycle, and revved the engine. The roar echoed through the street as she sped away.
---
A few hours later, Linda stood on the doorstep of a sleek modern building. Its expensive stone finish gleamed under the afternoon light. She hesitated briefly before pressing the doorbell.
Moments later, the door swung open.
A young woman in her early twenties appeared, wrapped in a short satin robe that clung carelessly to her body. Heavy makeup painted her face, while glossy waves of hair tumbled down her shoulders. Her eyes swept over Linda's figure, her expression dripping with arrogance.
"Hello?" she said lazily, her voice sharp with condescension.
Linda offered a polite, cool smile. "Hi. I'm here to speak with Sara's husband."
The woman's brows arched, and a wicked smirk spread across her painted lips. "Sara? Oh, you mean my man his ex-wife?" She gave a dry laugh and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Point of correction, he's my husband-to-be. We're engaged." She lifted her hand, flashing a diamond ring as though it were proof of her victory.
Before the woman could finish basking in her theatrics, Linda stepped forward and shoved her aside roughly, enough to send her stumbling against the wall.
"I won't take long," Linda said flatly as she entered the house.
The woman gasped in outrage but didn't dare block her path. Inside, the home was cold, sterile, and overly polished—more like a showroom than a place of warmth. Linda's sharp eyes scanned the room until they landed on Sara's husband lounging on a leather couch. A beer rested in his hand, his eyes dull and half-glazed from indifference or alcohol.
He looked up at the sound of her footsteps. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I'm a friend of your wife," Linda replied politely.
His lips curled into a sneer. "Ex-wife. Tell her she was a mistake. We were never supposed to be."
Linda raised a brow and stepped closer. "I just came to ask you something."
Before she could continue, the young woman strutted in behind her, clinging to his side like a decorative accessory. "Babe, she pushed me! I don't know what kind of friends Sara keeps, but this one's got issues."
He waved her off with annoyance, not even standing. "Whatever this is about, make it quick. I've had enough of her."
Linda's voice was steady, but her eyes burned. "Why did you throw your wife out? Why abandon her and your child like garbage? What kind of man does that?"
He scoffed loudly. "She was dragging me down. Always complaining, never satisfied. I gave her everything."
The mistress giggled behind him, stroking his back. "He really did. She just didn't know how to keep a man."
Linda's fingers twitched with restrained fury. "She gave you a child. She believed in you. And you repay her by running around with a strang woman who doesn't even know how to arrange a setting room.?"
The woman gasped. "Excuse me?!"
Sara's husband finally stood, his face flushing red with anger. "You need to get out of my house!"
"No," Linda said calmly, "not until I've said what I came to say."
His patience cracked. "What more nonsense do you have to say? Say it and get out! I'm running out of patience!"
Linda gave a thin smile. "Why didn't you at least try to work things out with her? She loved you. She needed you. And now she's on the street suffering, while you waste your time here with a stranger."
"Enough!" he roared, storming toward her.
His girlfriend faked a sob. "She insulted me, baby!"
Then, smack. The sharp sting of his palm exploded across Linda's face, the sound echoing through the room.
The mistress gasped in delight, clapping her hands like a child at a circus. "Oh my god, this is getting interesting!"
Linda froze, her hand pressed to her cheek, her eyes lowered. For a brief moment, silence filled the room, but inside her chest a storm raged. Fury and disgust boiled in her heart.
Before the man could revel in his violence, Linda moved. A swift, brutal kick landed between his legs.
He gasped, his knees buckled, and he crumpled into the couch with a strangled groan.
"That's for Sara," Linda said coldly.
As he writhed in pain, clutching himself, she turned to the mistress, whose smugness had evaporated into fear.
"You," Linda said, stepping closer.
The woman raised a trembling hand. "Don't come near me!"
Linda didn't slow down. One clean punch to the nose sent the mistress crashing to the floor, blood gushing as she wailed.
"You're not even as pretty as I thought," Linda muttered, stepping over her. "This man is so blind."
With that, she straightened her coat, strode out the door, and slammed it shut behind her.
---
Outside, the evening air was colder, sharper. Linda climbed onto her motorcycle, the engine roaring as she sped away, wind tearing against her face. Her chest rose and fell heavily, frustration gripping her ribs like iron. The confrontation had not solved everything, but at least she had shown them both that Sara was not alone.
A few streets down, the sky darkened and the wind grew wilder. Rain began to fall suddenly, soaking the streets. Linda spotted a clothing shop and pulled onto the sidewalk. Parking the bike, she removed her helmet and held it in one hand.
For a long moment she just stood there, her jaw clenched, her breath ragged. The rain mingled with the heat of her skin, cooling her body but not her anger. As the storm whipped her hair into her face, Linda knew one thing with certainty—this was only the beginning.