Did Eliana know? 

Did she know he’d murdered the baby she’d prayed for, sacrificed for, bled for? 

Would she ever be able to forgive him when she found out the truth? 

The rage and self–hatred with nowhere to go, Milo drove his fist straight through the glass display case. Blood gushed from his forn knuckles. 

Hot blood dripped onto the medical report, staining the damning words. Suddenly remembering something, he stumbled like a drunk man toward the 

nursery. 

Soft light filled the room, making the absolute devastation even more brutal to witness. 

The cheerful wallpaper with dancing teddy bears was splattered with black paint, turning innocent cartoon faces into something out of a horror movie. A crystal snow globe lay in a thousand glittering pieces across the hardwood floor. The white crib they’d assembled together was overturned and splintered, stuffed animals torn apart with their stuffing scattered everywhere. In the cold fireplace, charred remains of tiny onesies and blankets still smoldered… 

Seeing the nursery they’d lovingly prepared together destroyed like this, Milo felt like something was eating him alive from the inside out. Every breath was agony. 

He couldn’t fucking believe Eliana had been strong enough–or broken enough–to tear apart every trace of their dreams with her own hands. 

“It’s fine,” he whispered to the destroyed room, his voice cracking. “It’s all gonna be fine. We’ll try again. Eliana and I will have another baby.” 

But even as he said the words, they felt like lies. Every breath just brought more crushing guilt about what he’d done to Eliana and their child. 

He had only one thought now–find her. Find her and somehow make this right. 

With trembling hands, he grabbed his phone and called her number. 

“The number you have dialed is no longer in service…” 

The cold, robotic voice echoed through the empty mansion like a death sentence. Panicking, he tried texting, tried Instagram, tried everything–only to discover Eliana had blocked him on every single platform. 

The harsh reality hit him like a freight train. She was really gone. Actually gone. 

Eliana’s parents were dead. Their childhood home had been bulldozed for a shopping mall years ago. She had no siblings, and he’d never bothered learning about her friends because he’d been too wrapped up in his own world. 

In that moment, Milo realized with crushing horror that he didn’t know his own wife at all. 

He didn’t know who she turned to when she was hurting. Didn’t know her favorite places to hide. Didn’t know anything real about the woman who’d loved him with her whole heart for three years. 

The only thing he could remember was her mentioning wanting to get back into fashion design. 

But that could mean anywhere–New York, LA, Paris, Milan. The world was enormous, and she could be anywhere in it. 

For the first time in his life, Milo felt completely, utterly helpless. 

As he spiraled deeper into panic, he spotted something on his study desk that made his heart skip, 

His office was completely off–limits to everyone–except Eliana, who quietly organized his chaos every week without being asked. Maybe–God, please–maybe she’d left him some kind of sign, some way to find her. 

Milo rushed over, hope blazing in his chest. But as he got closer, that fragile hope shattered completely. 

Two documents lay on the mahogany surface. One was that fucking scorecard he’d dismissed months ago. The other was their divorce papers, already signed in Eliana’s careful handwriting. 

Contain Milo Our Love Score Has Hit Zero 

6.9% 

His hands shook as he picked up the scorecard. He remembered glancing at it before, rolling his eyes at what he’d thought waspettan 

per, kod laughed it off because everyone knew fillana worshipped the ground walked off–mo winy 

some stupid list. 

give an 

But now, reading each entry with the clarity of devastating hindsight, every single deduction felt like a blade twisting in his chest. 

“Missed our anniversary dinner for Harper’s art show opening. -10 points.” 

He remembered that night. Eliana had worn that blue dress he loved, had made reservations at their special place. He’d canceled last minute because Harper had been nervous about her gallery debut. 

“Called Harper’s name during our anniversary dinner. -15 points.” 

Fuck. He’d actually done that. Eliana had gone silent for the rest of the meal, but he’d been too distracted to notice. 

“Forgot my birthday but remembered Harper’s was the next day. -10 points.” 

His fingers trembled as he traced each line. Every negative symbol represented another moment he’d chosen Harper over his wife. Another time he’d broken Eliana’s heart and been too selfish to care. 

Each entry was like watching a time–lapse of a woman slowly dying inside. 

Every minus sign was another knife in his gut, reminding him exactly how catastrophically he’d fucked up. How completely he’d destroyed the one person who’d loved him unconditionally. 

The final entry made his vision blur: 

“Chose Harper over our baby. -5 points.” 

The pen had torn straight through the paper from the force of her writing. He could practically feel her anguish bleeding through the words. 

This wasn’t just a scorecard. It was a roadmap of how he’d systematically murdered his wife’s soul, one devastating choice at a time. 

And now she was gone, and he had no fucking idea how to find her. 

As he struggled to breathe through the crushing weight of his own guilt, the study door suddenly swung open. Milo’s head jerked up, desperate hope flaring-