Diane's POV
The sound of the front door closing behind my mother and Sophie echoed through the house. I stood frozen in the hallway, one hand protectively cradling my swollen belly while the other gripped the wall for support. Tears that I'd refused to shed in front of my sister now streamed freely down my face.
How dare she? How dare she show up here, kneeling and begging as if her tears could wash away what she'd done?
I made my way back to the my room upstairs, my legs trembling with the force of my emotions. The bed accepted my weight as I sank down, burying my face in my hands. The image of Sophie on her knees at our doorstep haunted me—her mascara-streaked cheeks, her red-rimmed eyes, the genuine remorse etched across her features.
Had I been too harsh? The thought slipped in before I could stop it, and I pushed it away with a rush of anger. No. She slept with my husband. She betrayed me in the most painful way possible. She deserved every ounce of coldness I could muster.
