Lia’s POV

The breeze brought the aroma of rain, fresh and far away, while I sat by the window, observing my son doze. His little chest lifted and lowered with every breath, his tiny fingers clenched into fists. Calm. Unaffected by the turmoil that had molded my existence. I felt jealousy towards him for that. Due to his purity. Because he would never recall the world I had fled from—the world that never really was mine. I ran my hand along my wrist, the subtle scars hardly noticeable in ...