Sitting in the dusty old car, he tapped his pen against the open page in his notebook. The pages were dotted with bullet points, each one an idea of how to take his new lover. The end of the month was in twelve days. Twelve days and counting until they could be together forever. This was the home stretch, easily one of his favourite parts of the process. From the moment he laid eyes on each of his many lovers, he dreamed of the day he would have them. Dreamed of the week they would have together, exploring each other and cementing their love for one another.

He remembered all of them like it was yesterday: Amelia, Madison, Morgan, Olivia, Anne, Chelsea, Jane, Angela, Rita, Amanda, Liza, Asa, Sarah, Maggie, Rebecca, Jenny, Nina, Elanor, and Isla. He remembered their screams, their cries, begging for their lives while asking what happened to their partners. It wouldn't be that way for too long. Eventually, the crying stopped, as did the begging. They became more open to his displays of love and acts of passion, but that didn't mean it always lasted. Milinda would be different—she was already different in so many ways.

His gaze shifted from the pages in his lap to the dimly lit apartment building across the street. Her ground-floor apartment was so closed off, with all the curtains drawn so tight he wondered if they had been sewn together. Years in the construction business gave him quite the advantage when it came to figuring out the layout of his lovers' homes. Well, it was that, plus the few times he had walked around the apartment when no one was home. He noted there were a few ways in. The front door was the obvious choice, but obvious wasn't quite his style. He liked subtlety—the art of slipping in unnoticed. Perhaps the back door was an option? He quickly scribbled another note: Back door—look for possible weaknesses.

Twelve days until the end of the month, and everything had to be perfect, but nineteen years of practice would certainly help. He knew how to plan every detail and make sure it was perfect. The anticipation made his pulse race. Soon, she would be his, just like all the others. And just like them, her partner would die.

His phone suddenly buzzed on the seat beside him, breaking his concentration. Sighing, he glanced down at the screen. One new message.

How's the job going?

There was no name, no number he recognized. Just the same question as always. A quick check-in from... whoever they were. They had appeared in his life months ago, never revealing anything about themselves... not that he really cared who they were. He smirked to himself and tapped out a response: On track. 12 days.

He set the phone aside, his mind already back on Milinda. The lights in her apartment flickered, announcing her presence. She was there, just a few feet away, behind that wall. His fingers itched to reach out and take what was his, but patience had always been his greatest strength.

* * * * 

Milinda silently cursed as the sudden and sharp light from her bedside lamp stung her eyes. Climbing into the comfort of her bed, she sighed, exhausted from the long hour she spent trying to get Kylie down for bed. The clever little girl was quickly figuring out that her mother was once again in danger from a bad man, so she was now worried about every little noise that came from outside.

Milinda dropped her head into her hands, allowing a tear or two to drop onto her palms. She always prided herself on being a good mother, and now her four-year-old had more trauma than any little girl should. Kylie wasn't supposed to be worrying about a bad man coming to take her mummy away—she was supposed to be thinking about playschool, making friends, or deciding which Barbie she was going to play with next. Would this be how Kylie remembered her final days with her mother? Days filled with fear and terror before the brutal final act.

Lifting her head, her eyes moved to the bedside table where her phone was still resting face down. She half-expected there to be a text from Shawn when she picked it up... but there wasn't. He was probably out at the bar, since it had become his go-to spot after work for the last few days. It had been four days since their talk, and while they were really trying to be there for one another, there were still strains keeping them apart. Milinda had cut off most communication with Noel, keeping the few times they spoke as professional as she could. She was sure he was doing the same with Averie, but she never really knew.

Milinda headed over to her contacts and searched for her mother's number. The air in the room felt heavy, not allowing her to take a proper breath as she held her phone to her ear and waited. She could hear the ringing on the other end and briefly wondered if her mum's ringtone was still "All About That Bass." The ringing stopped, and her mother's voice echoed through.

"Hi, honey," she greeted, her voice like a warm and comforting blanket.

"Hi, Mum," Milinda said back, her voice weary.

"Are you okay? You don't sound like yourself."

Milinda took a deep breath, releasing it in a long, heavy sigh.

"I'm just tired, Mum. I spent the last hour trying to get Kylie to sleep because whenever she hears a noise outside, she thinks the bad man is coming to get me. I don't blame her though—I also get scared at every new noise I hear, especially after he was outside the shop the other day."

"Well, surely Shawn is there to comfort both of you from those noises?"

Milinda slumped against her pillow and scoffed into the phone. "I'm sure he will, once he decides what time he wants to come home tonight."

She could hear her mother sigh on the other end of the line. She could feel her mother's shoulders slump and her brows pivot downward into a frown.

"Are things still that bad?"

Tears pricked at her eyes, and her lips quivered. "I just... don't know anymore. I don't think he's with Averie—at least I'm hoping he isn't. It's just... every night, it's the same. He comes home late, smelling of alcohol. It's like he's not even trying."

The stillness of the line sent shivers down Milinda's spine.

"I know things are tough right now, honey, but you just have to be patient. Relationships are never easy; just remember that."

While her mother's muffled voice offered a sliver of reassurance, Milinda's expression remained pained and conflicted. She ran her hand through her hair, glancing towards the door as if expecting Shawn to walk in at any moment.

"I know that, and I know he's trying, but it doesn't feel like enough. Not when he's still going there..." A lump formed in her throat. "Mum, I don't even know if we can keep doing this."

It was the first time she had said it out loud. It was a thought that had surfaced after their talk a few days ago but wasn't something she wanted to admit. As if her negative thoughts summoned him, Milinda heard the front door open, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. Her muscles stiffened, and her eyes flicked to the doorway. The echo of his footsteps grew closer. The lump in her throat grew bigger as he appeared in the doorway.

"Hello, my love," he greeted her, but it didn't flow like it usually did.

Milinda bobbed her head up and down, a silent greeting. Her emerald eyes followed him as he entered the room. She quickly noticed how hesitant he looked before fully entering, his hands gripping the doorframe so tightly that his knuckles were white, and the way his eyes examined her as if she were something under a microscope.

Milinda's eyes left him, and she put all her focus back on her mother. "I've got to go, Mum."

"Are you sure? You still sound like you need to talk."

"I'm okay, Mum. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, sleep well, baby. I love you."

Her lips curled upwards. "I love you too, Mum. Send my love to Dad."

"I will."

Milinda hit the red phone icon, ending the call. Setting her phone back onto the bedside table, she shifted her focus back to Shawn. The silence between them felt almost tangible, like a wide chasm that neither of them seemed willing or ready to cross. Shawn shifted awkwardly, the scent of alcohol lingering on him as he stepped closer to his side of the bed.

"How was your day?" he asked, cutting through the silence.

Milinda no longer wanted to look at him, focusing on the folded throw blanket that was sitting at the foot of the bed.

"It was fine." That was the only answer she felt like giving him.

Shawn sighed as his legs gave out from under him, allowing him to collapse onto the covers. His eyes, those raging storms, watched her every move—the way she looked everywhere but at him, the signs of tears that had recently fallen, the way she clenched her fists and then unclenched them, even the way her nose twitched, most likely from the smell radiating off him. He hated how little by little they were becoming strangers to one another. He wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them and ignite the flame of their love, but he didn't know how.

"Look, Milinda... I know things haven't been easy lately. I'm trying, I really am."

She finally looked up at him again, and while the spark in her eyes was dimming, there was still something there—something that gave him the smallest sliver of hope. The only question worth asking at that point was: is that sliver enough?

"I know you are, Shawn, and while I do appreciate it, I just don't know if it's enough. Not like this."

Shawn's face fell as he nodded. The weight of her words settled between them, leaving them both in a state of uneasiness. Shawn tried to reach out and touch her, but she quickly turned away.

"I have a long day tomorrow. I should get some sleep."

She turned her back to him and flipped the switch of her bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Shawn remained silent for a moment longer, watching her as she drifted off to sleep—his hope for their relationship drifting away with her.

* * * * 

Camila was certain the conference had never been so cluttered before. Boxes and an array of open files covered the long table, making it almost invisible. Whiteboards surrounded the table, each one centering around one of the victims. The red ink circling and underlining spots of document pages did nothing more than create a sense of urgency and dread. On the wall, a clock ticked steadily, each second feeling like one less until the end of the month.

Camila's stomach dropped, and tears pricked at her eyes as she gazed at the board they had to make for Milinda. The picture of her, all smiling and happy on the group's last trip to the beach, stood front and center—a casual reminder of what they could lose if they didn't find their man. The empty spot next to it didn't make it any better. It was a reminder that failure would bring about a deadly consequence. She looked around at the photos of the other women, the ones of them at their happiest sitting next to the photos of their decaying bodies. She didn't want to have to put that picture of Milinda up there.

A loud groan echoed from the chair just a few steps away from her, snapping her attention away from the haunting photo of her friend to her partner, who she was considering strangling to death with her shoelaces.

Shawn was slouched in his chair; his eyes, which were normally strong and determined—especially at work—were slightly bloodshot, and the dark rings under them were so prominent he almost looked like a raccoon. Strands of his hair stood all over the place. He was definitely hungover, she thought to herself as she shook her head.

She silently watched as he attempted to read one of the documents, taking note each time he had to stop to rub his eyes or sigh. She knew he was hungover, and it wasn't the first time this week. She wanted to smack his head against the desk and scream at him. The days were counting down until Milinda could be taken away from them... from him, and he was hungover at work. It was almost as if he didn't care anymore.

Camila shifted her harsh gaze away from Shawn and back onto the file she was holding. Flipping through the pages, she said, "Rough night, Shawn?" She tried to make it sound like a joke, but apparently, the frustration bubbling inside her refused to be silenced.

Shawn looked up at her with an exhausted smile that just didn't quite meet his eyes. He was quick to notice her defensive posture. She probably knew everything that was going on at home anyway. He had heard Milinda talking to Akhona once or twice about their relationship, and there wasn't a single doubt in his mind Akhona gave her every little detail the second she could.

He shrugged. "Yeah, you could say that."

Averie, seated on the other side of the table from them, leaned forward, pressing her arms onto whatever empty spot she could find.

"I brought doughnuts, by the way," she said cheerfully. With her eyes never leaving Shawn, her lips pulled back, revealing a wide grin. "I figured we could all use a bit of a sugar boost. Although, looking at you, Shawn, you seem to need it more than either of us."

Averie's words pulled Shawn's gaze away from Camila. The bright pink box and its sugary contents called out to him; he did need the sugar rush. So, with a vague nod in her direction and his lips barely moving to mumble a simple "thanks," he motioned for her to pass the box to him. Averie happily pushed the box toward him, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.

Camila was quick to notice, her brow furrowing and lips curling in disgust. She didn't like the way Averie watched Shawn or how comfortable Averie seemed with the dynamic. It was as though she was just toying with him—and by extension, toying with Milinda—and she didn't mind it in the slightest. It was almost as if she was enjoying it. Like it was her ultimate goal in life, and that enraged her more than anything.

She let go of the large file she was holding, allowing it to smack the table. Shawn and Averie jumped back in their seats. Averie glared at Camila, her breathing frantic and her hand pressing against the skin where her heart was. Shawn, on the other hand, dropped his doughnut at the sound and was frantically trying to wipe away remnants of powdered sugar off his midnight pants.

"Well, now that I have your attention, I suppose now is a good time to remind both of you that we've got nine days until Casanova strikes. So, we need to tighten up patrols around the hotspots. He is going to make a move, and we can't afford to miss it." She spoke with authority, trying to draw focus back to the case, to the importance of their work.

Shawn nodded, attempting to straighten up. He spoke again, his voice thick and raspy, still displaying his lack of sleep. "Yeah, let's get patrols doubled in the areas we flagged last time. We can't afford to slip up, not now."

Camila nodded, glad that someone in this room was agreeing with her. Her ocean eyes studied her partner with great intensity but softened when she noticed the tiredness etched in his features. There was something different in his demeanor today—something broken, as if the fight in him was dwindling, which she honestly didn't think was possible. She didn't have years with him, but what she did know about him was that he never gave up in a fight.

Averie's eyes flickered between them, feeling slightly amused by everything going on around her. Tilting her head, she asked, "You okay there, partner? You seem a bit... off. Maybe you should take it easy today."

Camila shot Averie a glare, not appreciating her tone. Averie's words sounded less like concern and more like a subtle jab.

"I'm fine. Let's just get back to work."

Shawn pulled another file closer to him and quietly started reading. Camila recognized the piece of paper immediately; it was a profile a member of the FBI's Behavioral Science Unit made on Casanova back in 2011 after he killed Jane Donalds and her husband, Brian. She had read it a hundred times over; hell, she was sure every cop who ever worked the case after 2011 had read the file so many times they would be able to recite it from memory if asked.

The Casanova killer is one of the most fascinating unsubs I have ever had the honour of researching. In fact, should he be caught one day, I have already volunteered myself to be one of the first members of our unit to go and study him. Sadly, I do not believe that will be for a long time, if ever really. He is a highly organized predator, well versed in the methods of stalking, capturing, and killing his selected targets.

He will not be easy to catch because he will not be the obvious suspect. He won't be the crazy neighbour down the road or the man who comes to the park even though he doesn't have children. He is calculating and smart, which suggests he is well-educated, but not so much that he would hold a high-end job. He will come from a troubled background, most likely from either an abusive or neglectful home. He will have had some trouble with the police before; considering the nature of his crimes, his run-ins with the police would have primarily been during his teen years and all related to sex in some way, either voyeurism, attempted rape, and/or rape.

He will hold a menial job, something that lets him move around and meet new people. In fact, it is my belief this job is what allows him to find his victims. He will have had some trouble holding down a relationship but leave the possibility that he may be married or even have children open. After all, we have seen cases of serial killers having a family while still carrying out their disturbing acts. His selection of married women, on the other hand, might suggest that there is some trouble in his marriage, and he wants to use them to fulfil some sort of fantasy.

I believe he is a white man between the ages of thirty and thirty-five. He is tall and well-built. No witnesses have ever come forward with sightings of anything strange, meaning he doesn't stand out in any way.

"How many times are you going to read that?" Averie asked, nodding toward the paper in Shawn's hand.

"Until something jumps out at me. I have a theory he may have been lurking around one of the crime scenes and might have even been one of the civilians that the police have interviewed as a possible witness. So, I'm trying to see if anything in this profile matches with the descriptions the people that were interviewed in the previous cases."

"That's definitely an interesting theory considering how much we all know some serial killers love to revisit their crime scenes and even try to insert themselves into the investigation, but the other detectives and patrol officers must have interviewed hundreds of people over the years. There is no way you're going to remember all of them; it would take you hours, days even."

"Then I guess I should get cracking."

"Still, there is no way you'll get it done in time," Averie argued, shaking her head.

Shawn slammed his hands on the desk, glaring at her with anger and malice. "Well, I'll just have to find a way, considering it's my fiancée who is at risk of ending up as one of those women," he snarled, pointing to the boards surrounding the room.

Averie's mouth dropped open, and her eyes flickered with surprise. Camila had to bite down on her lip to stop a raging fit of laughter from spilling out. She pushed on the edge of the table sending her chair rolling back.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee."

"Can you bring me one too?" Averie asked, but Camila pretended she didn't hear her. She wasn't in the mood to do something nice for that witch anyway.

She entered the quiet break room with a sigh of relief or perhaps it was more a sense of ease now that she wasn't in the same room as someone she wanted to strangle. She went over to the table in the far right corner and stood patiently as the old machine dripped into the semi-clear coffee pot. She glanced over her shoulder as she heard the echo of footsteps approaching.

She silently watched as the door swung open and Shawn trudged into the room. His fingers were working hard on his temples and his face was drawn and pale. He looked as though he has had enough of everything, but Camila wasn't ready to let things slide.

The machine clanked and made a funny sound as it stopped. Pulling out two white cups from the nearby cupboard and slowly filled them up. She extended her arm offering the one cup to her partner.

"Here. Figured you'd need it more than me today," she said making sure her tone was as calm as possible. She wanted to tear into him, scream at him for being so irresponsible for going out drinking and coming to work with a hangover.

Shawn cautiously accepted the cup his trained eye still picking up on how irritated and angry she was with him. He didn't blame her at all, but that didn't mean he wanted to get his head smashed in at work, he already felt like there were tiny people hitting his head around so the last thing he needed was for her to do it.

"Thanks, Cam. I really owe you."

Camila smiled at him, but it was far from genuine, it looked more like an umbrella trying to hold back a storm. He watched as she took a sip of her coffee her cold eyes never leaving him. The tension between them was rising rapidly, it was almost unbearable. Finally, Camila let out a sigh.

"Listen, Shawn, I'm just gonna ask you straight—what's going on with you? Firstly you come into work hungover beyond belief, honestly, I'm shocked we're not having this talk while you're hunched over a toilet. Secondly, I've been hearing things from the other officers. About you going to the bar almost every night and... and about Averie being there with you."

Shawn stiffened, his eyes flicking away from her. He set his cup down and rested his hands on the nearby counter. He took long and deep breaths before eventually looking back, the tiredness in his eyes firmly replaced by a hint of defensiveness.

"Cam, it's... I swear to God it's not what it looks like. I've been having a rough time with everything and just needed a place to clear my head, you know? I know the bar isn't the best place to go but I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. And Averie just... happens to be there sometimes, okay, we're not going there together."

Camila shook her head. "That's not how people see it, Shawn. And you know how Milinda would feel if she knew especially considering she now thinks Averie isn't hanging around you anymore since that other night." Shawn's face twisted in surprise. "Yeah I heard about that, okay, I've been hearing about everything. Shawn, you're giving people reasons to talk, and it will come back to bite you in the ass one day."

Shawn closed his eyes for a moment, running his hand through his hair as if trying to push away the frustration. "I know, Camila. I know. But it's not like that. Nothing's going on I swear. I mean do you seriously think I would cheat on Milinda?"

A long sigh escaped past her lips. "I don't know what to think anymore. Trust me I want to believe you, Shawn. But it doesn't matter what I think—it's what Milinda thinks. And if you're not careful, you're going to lose her."

Shawn looked down at the floor, her words hitting him like a blow to the chest. She might as well have taken out her gun and shot him in the heart. He stood silently and nodded, the guilt etched clearly on his face. He thought back to the night before, how silent Milinda was around him, how she didn't even want to look at him.

"You're right. I've been screwing up. I just... I don't know what to do anymore. It feels like everything's falling apart. You should have seen her last night, Cam, I thought she was going to leave me."

Camila reached out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You know what you need to do, Shawn. Go home, keep talking to her, and above all just be honest with her. But most of all, stop doing things that make her question you. You've got nine days—use them to fix things before it's too late."

Shawn looked up at her, the weight of her words sinking in. He nodded again, his expression resolute. "Yeah. I'll fix it. Thanks, Cam."

Shawn stayed back in the break room claiming he needed more than one cup of coffee to get rid of his pounding headache, while Camila made her way back to the conference room, her face set in determination. The door swung open revealing Averie sitting at the table, her legs crossed, a casual smirk playing at her lips. She typed away on her laptop, seemingly unconcerned with anything that happened that day.

Camila watched her for a moment, anger bubbling inside her. Finally, she stepped forward, her voice low but sharp, "Averie, we need to talk right now." Averie looked up, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. It was the first time Camila felt like she was looking at the real Averie.

"Oh, Camila. What's the matter? You look upset."

Camila glared at her, her fists clenching at her sides. "You know exactly what's the matter. You need to back off from Shawn. Whatever game you're playing, it's not funny. You're messing with his life, and you're tearing apart everything he has with Milinda."

Averie's smile faltered for just a moment before she let out a soft laugh. "Messing with his life?." Another sharp laugh echoed past her lips. "Oh, come on, Camila, don't be ridiculous. Shawn's a big boy, and he can make his own decisions. Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?"

Camila had never wanted to commit murder more in her entire life than she did at that very moment. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper, "Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what you're doing. You're pushing him, taking advantage of the situation, and you're enjoying it. You're not helping anyone—you're only causing more pain."

Averie leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression now less amused, more calculating.

"Tell me, Camila, why do you care so much? Hmm? Are you worried about Shawn, or are you just worried that I might be right? That maybe things between Shawn and Milinda aren't as perfect as you'd like to believe?"

Camila's eyes flashed with anger, her jaw clenching so hard she thought it would break at any moment if she moved it just right. "You really don't get it, do you? This isn't about you being right or wrong. This is about someone I care about making mistakes that could ruin everything. And you? You're just making it worse and if you keep interfering I swear to God I will kick your teeth out."

Averie's lips curled into a smile, though her eyes remained cold. "Did you seriously just threaten me in the police station, Detective Martin?"

Camila shrugged, "Only if you take it as one."

Averie's lips curled into a smirk and she leaned forward in her chair. "Listen I think that maybe you should let Shawn make his own mistakes, okay he's a grown man. Or are you worried that, given the choice, he might not choose the way you'd like?"

Camila shook her head, disgust and frustration etched across her face. She knew Averie was just trying to frustrate her, and she hated how easy she was making it for her. "You seriously think this is all a joke, don't you? You're playing with people's lives, Averie. But one day, you're going to push too far and when that day comes, I hope you realize just how much damage you've done."

Averie didn't respond, her smile unwavering as she watched Camila turn and walk away. The room fell into a state of silence, the uneasy tension still hanging in the air. She turned her attention away from the door and back to her laptop, her fingers moving across the keyboard at rapid speed, the confrontation seemingly already forgotten. Camila didn't scare her in the slightest, nor did her little threat. Nothing about the situation scared her. It was just another form of entertainment, another way to pass the time. 

* * * * 

As if waking up knowing that your life could come to an end very soon wasn't bad enough God decided that Milinda needed a bit of extra hardship today and it came in the form of a text. A text from the last woman she wanted to hear from-Grayson's mother Chanelle.

As Kylie skipped around the room admiring her new pink floral dress Milinda glanced outside. The sun was shining bright and not a single cloud dotted the air. It was a beautiful day, such a shame it was going to be wasted on the devil herself, but when Chanelle Taylor wants something she will push and push and push until she gets it. The message said she just wanted to "get to know her granddaughter better", but deep down Milinda knew it was a load of bullshit.

Kylie, the poor girl, was completely unaware of the thick tension rolling off her mother. She was simply happy with her new dress and the knowing that her day was going to be spent at the mall where she would no doubt get at least one bowl of ice cream.

Milinda chuckled, she swore it was as if Kylie would die if she didn't eat ice cream at least once a week. She smiled as Kylie started humming as she bounced up and down her long curls flying with her up, down, up, down, up, down.

"Mommy, when we going?" she asked, her face beaming with innocent enthusiasm.

Milinda forced a smile. "Soon, sweetheart, you just have to be patient." She really didn't want to dampen Kylie's excitement, but she wished there was no other way to avoid this day. Chanelle had made it clear that she wanted more time with Kylie, and though Milinda had tried to put off the meeting, Chanelle had been persistent. The only light in the dark tunnel was at least in public, Chanelle wouldn't be able to unleash her full venom.

The doorbell rang, and Milinda stiffened. She took a breath before walking to the door and opening it. Chanelle stood there, looking every bit as prim and put together as always. Her tailored white blouse, pearl necklace, and polished shoes screamed of a woman who never let her guard down. Her hair, which was always just a slight shade too dark for someone her age, looked picture perfect as if God himself had painted each strand on her head. But no matter how much she dressed herself up nothing could cover the harsh tint in her eyes. Grayson has the same ones, and Milinda hated that.

"Milinda," Chanelle greeted, her tone clipped as her eyes immediately scanned the apartment, her nose wrinkling slightly, as though she could smell a stench that wasn't there. She managed to soften her face just in time for Kylie to make her way to the door. "Kylie, my darling you look beautiful!" Her voice was sweet as honey now, and she held out her arms to the little girl.

Kylie ran up and gave her grandmother a hug, and for a brief moment, Milinda watched as Chanelle's eyes softened, genuine affection in her gaze. At least Kylie would be shielded from the worst of this... for now.

Chanelle looked at Milinda again, her eyes hardening just a fraction as they made eye contact. "Shall we get going then? I made reservations for lunch at one of the finer places in the mall. I figured it was the least I could do for my son's... family."

Milinda's stomach tightened ever so slightly. The quick emphasis on the word family left a bitter taste in the back of her throat. She knew Chanelle didn't really include her in that simple equation, but she wasn't about to start a fight in her doorway not even five minutes into the day.

So, Milinda gave her a curt nod and grabbed her purse. "We're ready."

The drive to the mall was almost eerily silent with the only saviour, of course, being Kylie who sang Mary Had a Little Lamb the whole way there except for the soft hum of Kylie's voice in the backseat, singing along to one of her favourite nursery rhymes. The second they arrived Chanelle grabbed Kylie from the car and holding her hand walked ahead leaving Milinda trailing closely behind.

The atmosphere of the busy mall buzzed around them and for the briefest of moments Milinda thought the day might not be so bad after all... that didn't last long. In fact, it went away the second Chanelle turned her head to look at her with a smile so icy she was shocked the mall was covered with snow.

"You know, Grayson always talked about how much he wanted children. It's such a shame he never got to be here to see his daughter grow up. He would have been such a wonderful father."

Milinda felt her teeth clench. Of course, she would start this already. She knew better than to take the bait, though. She'd learned the hard way not to let Chanelle's passive-aggressive comments get under her skin, but it didn't stop the anger from simmering beneath the surface. Grayson would have been a wonderful father. The man who had terrorized her, stalked her, and tried to take her life? The thought of him having anything to do with Kylie made her stomach turn.

"Grayson made his choices," Milinda said carefully, she didn't want to stir up more trouble than she had to, especially in front of Kylie.

Chanelle let out a soft scoff and shook her head. "Choices... well, we all make them, don't we? Some worse than others."

Milinda bit her lip, resisting the urge to snap back. This was about Kylie today, not about Grayson, no matter how hard she knew Chanelle would try to steer the conversation that way.

The trio wandered through the mall, and Milinda felt like her head was about to explode. Chanelle at this point was like a complete psycho one minute pointing out cute little things she thought Kylie would like her voice sweet like honey and nectar while she spoke to the little girl. But the second Kylie would skip ahead to look at a display Chanelle's mask would slip, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at Milinda.

"I don't know how you do it, Milinda."

"Do what?" Milinda cautiously asked.

"I don't know how you go about your life raising a child who will never really know her father. Do you ever think about that? Do you ever think about what you've deprived her of?" Chanelle asked casually as they passed a children's clothing store.

Milinda froze for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. Of course, Chanelle would bring it up. She swore she had never met someone so much like a snake, a serpent that was waiting for your weakest moments to strike.

"Kylie has a good life," Milinda said making sure to keep her voice as evenly as she could. "She's safe, and that's all that matters."

Chanelle's lips curled into a tight smile, it was the kind of smile that didn't reach a person's eyes. "Safe from what, exactly? From a father who was taken from her too soon by her mother of all people?" she chuckled, " Or is she supposed to be safe from the lies you've told her about him?"

Milinda's heart pounded in her chest. "Lies? You know exactly what your son did, Chanelle. I don't need to remind you."

Chanelle's smile vanished, and for a moment, her eyes blazed with fury. But one glance at Kylie who was skipping along the tiled floor reminded her she had to compose herself.

"My son wasn't perfect," Chanelle said in a low whisper, her voice barely audible over the mall's background noise, "but I know he loved you. And I know he didn't deserve to die the way he did, in that cold and dark basement."

Milinda stepped closer her eyes hard and fists clenched. "He tried to kill me, Chanelle," she hissed, her voice shaking with the effort to keep it under control. "He stalked me, terrorized me, and tried to take my life. I didn't have a choice."

Chanelle's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "You always make yourself the victim, don't you? I can only imagine what kind of story you'll tell Kylie when she's old enough to ask about her father."

Milinda's fists clenched even tighter. She could feel her nails digging into her skin, but she didn't care. The nerve of this woman to twist everything, to make it seem like Grayson was some kind of martyr. But before Milinda could respond, Kylie came running back toward them, her face flushed with excitement.

"Mommy, Can we get ice cweam now?" Kylie's voice was bubbly, completely unaware of the tension between the two adults.

Milinda forced a smile, her heart aching as she looked down at her daughter. "After lunch sweetie," she turned to look back at Chanelle, "You said we had a reservation, right?"

Chanelle looked between the two of them her lips curling up into a warm smile as she looked at Kylie. "Of course, and once we're done I'm going to buy you so much ice cream you won't know what to do with all of it."

Lunch went about as well as Milinda could have hoped for. The restaurant was a bit too fancy for lunch with a four-year-old but Kylie didn't seem to mind and enjoyed a kiddies pizza. Sticking to her promise as soon as lunch was over Chanelle bought Kylie a large bowl of chocolate ice cream. Milinda smiled at Kylie even though she knew deep down that this was going to give her a sugar rush that would take hours to get rid of. The only part of the whole experience at that point was the questions Chanelle would ask Kylie. They seemed so simple from an outsider looking in. What's your favourite toy? Favourite game? Stuff like that, but Milinda could see the underlying motive. She knew Chanelle was just trying to find a way to compare Kylie to her father, to pull Kylie into the shadow of Grayson, to make her some part of the legacy he never got to have.

As Kylie played with her spoon, Chanelle turned to Milinda again, her voice low but cutting. "I just think it's such a tragedy, really. Grayson should have been with us today. He would've been a good father, don't you think?"

Milinda's jaw tightened. This woman wouldn't give up "My answer isn't going to change the more you ask me. Grayson was a danger to me, Chanelle. He was dangerous to anyone who stood in his way. He wasn't some tragic hero—you need to stop pretending he was."

Chanelle's eyes flashed with anger, but her voice remained calm. "You never deserved him, Milinda. He loved you, and all you did was take advantage of him and when you couldn't do that anymore you threw it all away."

Milinda leaned forward, her voice trembling with rage. "I didn't throw anything away. He threw away his life when he decided to come after me. I did what I had to do to protect myself and Kylie, and I will never apologize for that to anyone... especially you."

Chanelle's face hardened, her eyes narrowing into slits. "You'll regret keeping her from her father's legacy. One day, Kylie will know the truth, and you won't be able to hide behind your sick lies forever."

Milinda shifted her stance, barely managing to contain her rising irritation as Chanelle continued browsing the racks of designer bags. Chanelle's air of superiority, the way she sneered at anything outside her narrow view of life, was grating. She picked up a luxury handbag, turning it over in her hands as though it held the key to the world's greatest secrets.

"You know, Grayson would've loved to see Kylie today," Chanelle said, her tone casual but pointed, designed to poke at Milinda's guilt. "He always talked about what kind of father he'd be."

Milinda's grip tightened around Kylie's small hand. She bit her tongue, holding back the surge of emotions Chanelle's words stirred. She had to stay calm—for Kylie's sake.

"Grayson was..." Milinda paused, her voice catching in the lump that had formed in her throat. She didn't want to revisit that dark chapter of her life, especially not with the woman who refused to see the truth. "He wasn't who you thought he was, Chanelle. Honestly, I don't know how many times you want to go over this."

Chanelle raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smug smile. "I'll go over it as many times as I like, after all, I no longer have a son because of you. And please for the sake of your child stop with all your little exaggerations about his character. My Grayson may not have been perfect, but all that nonsense about him trying to hurt you. Now, we both know that was just your excuse to leave him and steal Kylie."

"Leaving? He tried to kill me."

Chanelle scoffed, waving her hand dismissively almost as if she thought all the horrors of the past were nothing more than specks of dust that could be swatted away.

"Oh, come now. You must have just misunderstood his intentions. I mean he always did have a funny way of showing love sometimes, but make no mistake it was love. He loved you, Milinda. You know that."

Heat rose to Milinda's face as she shook her head. "Love doesn't look like that. It doesn't look like fear, or control, or bruises."

"You've painted him as a monster because that's the only way you can live with yourself. But you forget, Milinda, I knew him long before you did. I raised him."

Milinda's pulse quickened, her vision narrowing to the woman sitting across from her, refusing to acknowledge her son's monstrous acts. The tight grip Chanelle held on this false narrative was suffocating.

"Mommy," Kylie's small voice cut through the tension, tugging at Milinda's hand. "Can we go see the puppies now?"

Milinda blinked, feeling the weight of the confrontation temporarily lifting from her shoulders as she looked down at Kylie's hopeful face. She managed a smile, nodding. "Of course, baby."

"Maybe I'll buy her one," Chanelle chimed in, her saccharine tone returning. She flashed Kylie a bright, artificial smile. "Wouldn't that be fun? A new puppy?"

Kylie's eyes lit up, but Milinda's stomach churned. She wasn't about to let Chanelle use her daughter to manipulate the situation. "We're not getting a dog today, Chanelle. That's not happening."

Chanelle's smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I guess Grayson was right about you Milinda, you really are no fun."

"In case you haven't noticed, Chanelle, I live in a small apartment which is no place for a dog first of all, secondly you can't just buy her whatever she wants because news flash you are not her parent." Milinda looked down at Kylie, "Actually I think we're done here."

As she tried to stand up and pull Kylie with her the little girl started crying, "No, Mommy, I don't want to go home."

"I think we've had enough of the mall, sweetie. Okay, we can go home and make cheesy pasta for supper, how does that sound?"

"No, wanna see puppies!"

"Honestly, Milinda, if she wants to see the puppies then let's take her to see the puppies. You know what I think I saw a game centre in here as well, maybe we could go and play some games for a bit."

"Yes, Mommy, please!"

Milinda sneered at Chanelle, "You need to learn how to mind your own business."

Chanelle pushed herself out of her chair and stood right in front of Milinda. "And you need to understand that you will never be able to cut me out of her life. She is my granddaughter and whether you like it or not I will always be here."

Milinda sighed as Kylie tugged at her hand. "Mommy, please," she begged her little lips wobbling and tears clouding her eyes. Milinda wanted to grab her and run out of the mall, run as far as she could and never let Chanelle near her again, but looking at her little girl she didn't want to break her heart even more. So, she would bite her tongue for a bit longer knowing that after today she would start doing whatever she needed to cut Chanelle out completely.

"Fine, we can look at the puppies and play some games."

As Kylie jumped up and down with joy, Chanelle reached out and grabbed Milinda's arm pressing her nails into her flesh. "I knew you'd make the right choice."

"I'm doing this for her because that is what good mothers do. Just know this, Chanelle, I will do whatever it takes to protect my daughter from everything Grayson was—and that includes you if I have to." She could see that Chanelle was about to come back with another quick remark so she held her hand up to her face, "Let's go those puppies might be able to wait but that little one won't."

And just like that the fake smile returned, "Yes, let's go." 

* * * * 

The harsh buzzing of the bust station died down as the sun started to set over the horizon. Shawn stepped out of the police station his sigh being taken up by the cool breeze. The end of the day usually came with the sense of relief, the chance to go home sit back and relax... it wasn't like that this time. It hadn't been like that for weeks now.

The sheer weight of the Casanova case was still pressed heavily on his shoulders—nine days until the end of the month. Nine days to stop Casanova before Milinda's life was over, and he couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out faster than he could keep up. His brain was tangled threads like spiderwebs going off between the case and the gnawing feeling in the background as he got closer and closer to the bar-Milinda.

Things weren't right between them. They hadn't been for days. Since his father's death, since this case intensified, their relationship felt like it was teetering on the edge of collapse. He feared she was slipping away... no, he knew she was slipping away, and wasn't even the worst of it. The worst of all was that he was starting to wonder if maybe it was for the best. Their relationship was in pieces and above all he couldn't protect her. He was trying—God, he was trying—but Casanova was always one step ahead. He couldn't stop him, and that helplessness bled into every part of his life, especially when it came to Milinda.

Jeanette's Bar stood out in the distance, the neon signage breaking through the dim darkness that was settling over the city. As he walked in, the familiar sounds of clinking glasses and low chatter welcomed him. His eyes raked across the room, not really looking for anyone, but hoping for some solitude. His heart sank when he saw her—Averie.

She was already sitting at the bar, her blonde hair shining under the dim lights. Years ago he would have never guessed that the mere sight of her would fill him with rage, but here he was wishing that she would disappear just like she did when she left him.

He turned to walk out, but before he could take more than a step, she caught his eye and waved. His jaw tightened. The last thing he wanted to be around tonight was Averie, but there was no escaping her tonight. So, reluctantly, he walked over, stopping a few feet from her.

"Averie," he greeted, his voice flat.

"Shawn," she said, her tone softer than he expected. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just wanted to apologize."

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. She had been everywhere lately—at work, at the bar, constantly flirting with him or giving him her signature puppy dog eyes. It had caused talk among his colleagues and made his already strained relationship with Milinda even worse... just as Camila said it was doing. Part of him wanted to walk away right now and avoid the whole thing. But the other part, the part that still remembered how things had been with Averie, stayed.

"You came all the way here to apologize?" he asked. "You do realize that we'll see each other at work tomorrow?"

"Yes," she said, shifting slightly in her seat. "I know I've been acting...inappropriately. The flirting, the hanging around...I didn't mean for it to cause problems for you. When I got called in to come to work with you I thought I would be okay," she chuckled, "Clearly I was wrong. I didn't know... still don't know how to deal with seeing you again."

Shawn raised an eyebrow and bit his lip to stop himself from bursting out into a fit of laughter. "You didn't know how to deal with it, so you decided to follow me to bars and flirt with me at work? You do realize people are talking, right? It's deeply affecting my relationship with Milinda as if me not letting her in on my emotions wasn't enough."

Averie winced, her expression faltering for a moment. "I'm sorry, Shawn. I really am. I didn't mean to make things harder for you. I promise that it will all stop, okay, all the flirting will stop right here right now. And on top of that, I want to apologize for everything."

Shawn folded his arms, leaning back slightly. He hated how there was still a small part of him that was believing her. "Everything?"

"For leaving you. For the way I left you," she clarified. "It wasn't fair to you, and I know that now. I shouldn't have walked away two days before our wedding. I should have talked to you about the way I was feeling but I didn't. It was selfish, and I hurt you."

Shawn exhaled slowly, the memories of that terrible time flickering in the back of his mind. Averie leaving him had shattered him back then. She'd run off with her boss, leaving Shawn standing with nothing but a cancelled wedding and a broken heart. It took him forever to get over her. It took meeting Milinda in the same bar he was standing in at that moment to get over the woman sitting in front of him. But hearing her apologize now, it felt different. It felt as if he hadn't moved on at all.

"You broke my heart," he said quietly, surprising even himself with the bluntness of the statement.

"I know," Averie replied. "I know I did and I regret it. But I'm not trying to get in the way of your life now. I can see you're happy with Milinda...or at least, you were."

Shawn sighed, frantically running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, things aren't great right now. And you showing up everywhere isn't helping at all."

Averie nodded. "I'll stop, okay, like I said earlier I promise that all the flirting will stop. No more flirting, no more following you around. I don't want to keep messing things up for you."

He looked at her, the pure sincerity in her eyes shocked him, forcing him to let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. "Fine, but you have to keep that promise. I don't want to lose Milinda."

"I will," she assured him. "I promise."

A moment of silence settled between them, and Shawn could feel the tension in the air starting to dissipate, but something else was lingering. Unspoken words, unfinished business.

"Can I sit with you for a bit?" she asked cautiously. "Just to talk?"

He hesitated but then nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Averie pulled up a stool beside him, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Shawn ordered a drink which got there fairly quickly. He sipped his drink, his mind circling with thoughts of Milinda, Casanova, and the strange sense of closure that Averie's apology had brought. But something else nagged at him, something he hadn't let himself think about in a long time.

"You know, our relationship..." he began, unsure of where he was going with it. "It was simpler. You and me."

Averie smiled faintly. "Yeah, it was."

"We understood each other," he continued, more to himself than to her. "I didn't have to explain myself all the time. You just... got it. If I wanted to sit on the couch and not say a word, you didn't poke and prod at me. If I wanted to go out and get my mind off of things you didn't beg me to stay at home. Everything was just so much easier."

"I'm sure that just came down to us both being detectives. I knew what you were dealing with and what you needed to do to get through it. And I think that's part of why I've been acting the way I have. Because I miss that, Shawn. I miss us."

Shawn felt a pang in his chest. He didn't want to admit it, but part of him missed it too. With Averie, things had been easy, and uncomplicated. He loved Milinda, there was no denying that, but things clicked differently with her than they did with Averie. And now, with everything going on—the case, the stress, the growing distance between him and Milinda—he was starting to wonder if maybe he had made the wrong choice.

No, Shawn, why would you even think such a thing, his subconscious screamed at him. His subconscious was right, he had no right to think about things like that. It wasn't fair. Milinda had her struggles and her trauma. Their relationship was currently complicated, yes, but that didn't mean it wasn't worth fighting for. Still, sitting here with Averie, it was hard not to think about how different things could have been.

"Do you ever think about what might have happened if you hadn't left?" Shawn asked quietly.

Averie looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "All the time."

Shawn nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Averie. With Milinda, with Casanova...I'm starting to feel like I'm failing at everything."

"You're not," she said firmly. "You're a good man, Shawn. You always have been."

He wanted to believe her, but doubt lingered in his mind. The clock was ticking on the Casanova case, and with every passing day, he felt more helpless, more incapable of stopping the monster who was closing in on Milinda. And now, with Averie sitting beside him, reminding him of the life he could have had, he felt more conflicted than ever, and he hated that more than anyone would ever be able to understand. 

* * * * 

He smiled as he watched the two sitting at the bar. This was certainly a development he wasn't expecting. Perhaps he wouldn't have to worry about Shawn at all when the time came, not that he was worried about him anyway. Shawn wouldn't have been able to defeat him, none of them had been able to. Nothing could stop him from taking his lovers, not even those who claimed they loved them more than he did.

A little ring on their fingers was nothing. They were nothing and he loved proving that to them. These two were already different, not being married and all, but this was going to make things even more interesting.

His phone beeped in his pocket and he sighed. The lit-up screen showed a message from his silent half.

Hope all is well.

So short, so simple, and above all still so fucking anonyms. He quickly typed back.

All is well.

The response was so instant even he was shocked.

Good.

Hoping they were still on the line he sent his next text, finally having the courage to ask what he had been wanting to ask since the day the first text came in.

Are you ever going to tell me who you are?

He waited and waited and waited... nothing. Screaming he tossed his phone to the seat next to him. They were never going to tell him who they were, he should know this, after all, it's not like he was going to walk up to his wife and tell her why he 'worked' late every night. He knew the importance of animality and deep down he respected it.

Turning his attention back to Shawn and his coworker he wondered if he should send the picture to Milinda. Show her who really loved her in this world. Show her that if there was one person she should commit herself to it should be him. Yes, he would show her, but not through a text, his signature letter was needed for this. So, taking out a sheet of paper he excitedly got to work. 

* * * * 

Milinda slumped back in the passenger seat of Chanelle's car, staring blankly out of the window. As if the day at the mall wasn't enough torture, Chanelle has insisted that the two of them go out for a drink to bury the hatched. She thought it was finally over when they dropped Kylie off at Akhona's place, but Chanelle wasn't finished. When they got back home she thought she was finally free but no.

"Is there anywhere specific you want to go?" Chanelle asked.

Straight to hell, if anything I'll probably prefer it, she thought. She couldn't say that so instead she shook her head. "Wherever you want, Chanelle."

She smiled at that. The car ride was silent, which was fine Milinda didn't want to talk to Chanelle anyway considering she would just spin the conversation back to Grayson and Milinda was a terrible mother. Milinda was half expecting Chanelle to pull up to some fancy bar she no doubt would have found during her tour of the city... she didn't. Milinda sat up in her seat, recognizing the bar immediately. Her heart gave a nervous jolt.

"Wait... here?" she asked, her voice tight from a lump starting to form.

Chanelle parked, ignoring the tension in Milinda's voice. "It's close to your home, and it's where you used to work, isn't it? I thought it'd be a bit nostalgic."

Nostalgic... that was one word for it. Milinda didn't know whether to laugh or scream. This was where she used to pull long shifts before she met Shawn before everything spiralled into the mess her life had become. The day she quit she had sworn she would never set foot back into Jeanette's Bar ever again.

"If you don't mind I'd rather go somewhere else. There's another bar just u the street much nicer than this, you would love it."

Chanelle looked sad for a moment but then nodded. "Okay." As she was about to start the car she frowned and pointed to the window. "Isn't that Shawn?"

Milinda's eyes darted to the window, and she gasped. Inside, at the stools by the counter, she saw Shawn. He was sitting across from Averie, the two of them deep in conversation, laughing. The sight knocked the air out of her lungs. He said nothing was happening with her. He had promised her. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she could feel the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"What's wrong now?" Chanelle asked, the frustration clear in her tone.

Milinda couldn't speak for a moment, her eyes glued to the scene unfolding inside the bar. Averie reached out, placing a hand on Shawn's arm, her fingers lingering longer than they should have. Then, almost as if on cue, they leaned in closer. Milinda watched in horror as Shawn's hand brushed against Averie's cheek just like he would do with her, and then they kissed.

"No... No, no, no," Milinda whispered, her mind spinning and the tears starting to break through.

"Milinda," Chanelle snapped, but Milinda was already out of the car and storming towards the entrance, her blood boiling.

She shoved the door open, the sound of the bell startling both Shawn and Averie, who looked up in unison. Without hesitating, Milinda crossed the room in seconds. The rage that was surging within her propelled her, and before Shawn could utter a single word, her hand had flown across through the air and had connected with his face. The sharp sound of the slap echoed across the bar. A few patrons nearby gasped, while others whispered amongst themselves.

"What the fuck, Shawn!" she shouted, her voice shaking from both anger and sadness.

Shawn looked up at her stunned, his cheek red from the impact. Averie sat there, eyes wide, a smug smile slowly curling onto her lips as she leaned back into her seat. She said nothing but wore an expression that said it all—she enjoyed watching this unfold.

"Milinda, I—" Shawn started, standing up and reaching out towards her, but Milinda jerked away from his touch as if he were poison.

"Don't. You don't get to talk to me right now," she hissed, spinning on her heels she stormed back out of the bar, her heart pounding in her chest.

She could hear Shawn following her his heavy footsteps echoing behind her all the way outside the bar. She felt her arm being grabbed stopping her from walking any further.

"Milinda, please, let me explain," he pleaded, his voice low, filled with a desperation she hadn't heard from him before.

Good, she thought, let him be desperate. Let him feel a fraction of the heartbreak she going through.

"Explain?" she spat, turning to him, eyes blazing. "What could you possibly explain? I saw you! I saw you with her, laughing, kissing her!"

"It wasn't like that!" he tried, but Milinda shook her head, stepping back from him.

"Then what was it? Because from where I was standing, it looked pretty damn clear." Her voice cracked as she spoke, the betrayal cutting deep.

Shawn ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. "Averie just... she wanted to talk, to apologize for everything. She kissed me, but it meant nothing!"

"Nothing?" Milinda laughed bitterly, her eyes welling up again. "It certainly didn't look like nothing to me. And how long has this been going on? You said that you weren't with her and yet you've been at that bar with her every time I turn around!"

Shawn winced at her words, guilt pressing down on him like a weight. He had been spending too much time with Averie, even if it wasn't intentional. But it was never supposed to mean anything. It wasn't supposed to mean anything.

"It's not what you think, Milinda, I swear. I'm just... I'm just trying to make sense of everything—in this case, our relationship. Everything's falling apart, and I don't know what to do anymore," Shawn said, his voice breaking slightly.

Milinda's tears finally spilt over, her anger dissolving into the hurt she'd been carrying for so long. "You don't know what to do? How do you think I feel, Shawn? I've been trying so hard to hold us together, to trust you, but you keep pulling away. And now, this? I can't... I can't keep doing this."

Shawn's heart sank as her words hit him. He watched as she slipped her ring off her finger and forced it into his hands. He stepped closer, reaching out for her again, but she pulled away, shaking her head.

"I'm done," she whispered. "I'm done trying. You've clearly made your choice."

"No, Milinda, don't say that. Please," Shawn begged, his chest tightening as he realized what was happening.

But it was too late. She was already walking back to Chanelle's car, her mind made up.

Without a word, Milinda slid back into the passenger seat, her body trembling as she tried to hold herself together. Chanelle, who had been standing on the sidewalk watching the whole scene unfold, got back into the driver's seat, glancing at Milinda briefly before starting the car.

"Well," Chanelle said, her tone annoyingly calm, "I guess that clears things up, doesn't it?"

Milinda didn't respond, her mind too clouded with emotions to process anything Chanelle was saying. She stared out of the window, tears streaming down her face as the car pulled away from the bar. The second they arrived back at the apartment complex Milinda jumped out of the car, her legs feeling weak as she walked up to the door. As soon as she was inside, the weight of everything collapsed on her and she began to sob loudly.

Camila and Akhona, who were sitting in the living room when Milinda walked in, rushed over to the door. Looking down at their friend with her tear-streaked face, broken expression, and ringless finger they knew what happened. They rushed over to her, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

Sitting on the floor settled in their arms Milinda broke down, her loud sobs ringing through the air. Her world was falling apart, that much was clear, and by God she never expected it to hurt this much. 

The End of Episode 7

Don't hate me for this... that's all I'm going to say.