The rain hadn't let up yet. Sharp droplets of water pelted Seren's body as she lay on her side on the concrete tiles of the backyard. Her consciousness had slipped away long ago, ever since her chest had felt as if it were being crushed by concrete. The cold no longer made her shiver—at this point, her nerves had gone numb. Her breath was nothing more than a wisp of white vapor that grew fainter in the air.
From behind the warm glass window, Haelyn sipped her tea. She felt no pity. Instead, she pulled out the latest phone Mark had given her, aiming the camera at the frail body lying in the rain. She recorded it steadily. This footage would be her weapon—proof that Seren was an incompetent wife, who had fainted simply from washing a baby's clothes.
"Mom, look at her. She's so weak," Haelyn said without taking her eyes off the phone screen.
