Phoebe returned to the ward, her body finding solace against the cool windowpane. Her palm tenderly traced the contours of her abdomen, a bittersweet reminder of the tiny life that had once blossomed within her three years prior.Her fingers curled protectively over her stomach, a physical manifestation of the self-blame and guilt that gnawed at her soul. She found herself questioning the past, wondering if her attendance at that fateful reunion could have altered the course of her life. “I’m sorry, my baby. I failed to protect you,” she murmured, her voice heavy with sorrow.Phoebe sought refuge in a secluded corner of the room, her hand acting as a shield for her tear-streaked face. The steady stream of tears quickly dampened her palm, a testament to the pain and regret that consumed her.

It was in this state of distress that Theodore found her. Alarm painted his features as he rushed to her side, gently lifting her from the cold, hard floor. “Why are you on the floor?” he questioned, his gaze falling upon her tear-stained face. “What’s wrong?”

Phoebe’s response was a muffled sob, her face buried in her palms.”Theodore, do you hate me?” she queried, her voice laced with despair. “I hate myself. If only I had been more careful,” she admitted, her words trailing off into a whisper. “If I…”Theodore’s heart tightened at her words. “Phoebe, please don’t cry,” he pleaded.

Phoebe sought solace in his chest, her body wracked with sobs that seemed to release years of pent-up grievances.

Theodore held her close, his eyes filled with a protective warmth. Seeing her cry so helplessly, he regretted not dealing with Tompson sooner. “Don’t be afraid. Nothing happened,” he reassured her.

Phoebe knew he misunderstood the source of her tears, but she didn’t correct him. Her suspicions were just that, suspicions, lacking any concrete evidence. She feared that revealing them would only lead him to believe she was making excuses. She swallowed her sobs, her tears gradually subsiding.

Theodore held her until she calmed, his expression softening. He noticed the tear stains on her face and gently wiped her nose. “You’re crying like a baby. I’ll get a towel to wipe your face.”He rose, gently settling Phoebe on the bed before disappearing into the bathroom. He returned shortly, a warm towel in hand.

Phoebe felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her as she leaned against the headboard. “I’ll do it myself,” she protested, but Theodore gently brushed her hand aside.

He leaned over her, one hand bracing himself on the edge of the bed, the other tenderly wiping away her tears. “Phoebe, I will investigate this matter thoroughly. No matter what forces are behind them, I will make sure you get justice,” he promised, his gaze never leaving her face. Phoebe’s eyelashes fluttered at his words, a question escaping her lips before she could stop it. “What if Vanessa is the one behind all this? Would you still help me seek justice?” Theodore’s hand stilled, his gaze piercing into hers. “Why do you think Vanessa would plot against you?”

Phoebe bit her lip, regretting her impulsive question. She averted her gaze, murmuring, “It’s nothing, just a thought.””There’s no such possibility.” Theodore claimed calmly and firmly. “Vanessa wouldn’t do that. She’s not that kind of person.” Phoebe couldn’t help but wish she hadn’t asked. She silently took the towel from his hand, wiping her face. ‘Perhaps all first loves were held in such high regard by men,’ she mused.

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