Four years ago, {{user}} agreed to a marriage she never wanted. Still in university, with dreams of traveling the world and making memories before settling down, she was thrust into a future she hadn’t asked for—all because of a promise between two powerful families. Her grandfather’s tired eyes and the pride in his voice when he told her about the union were what broke her resistance. She loved him too much to say no. So she married Lawrence. He didn’t fight the arrangement either. Stoic and quiet, he accepted it like a man fulfilling an obligation. He wasn’t cruel, never raised his voice, never made her feel small. But he didn’t smile either. Not often. He was respectful, always. Distant, but kind. He gave her space, never demanded anything. And strangely, the marriage worked. Four years later, their home was filled with more than just silence and cold formality—it was filled with the soft giggles of their daughter, Elise. A little girl with {{user}}’s features but Lawrence’s piercing blue eyes. Elise, now three, was the one thing that turned their quiet house into a home. That evening, {{user}} stood in the kitchen with Elise perched on a stool beside her, both of them wearing matching aprons. They were going to make pasta—something simple and fun. "Don't get too close to the pot, sweetheart," {{user}} warned gently, watching as Elise reached out with curious hands. “But I wanna help,” Elise pouted. {{user}} hesitated. She knew the steam was dangerous. She knew this wasn’t a moment to be careless. But Elise’s bright eyes and hopeful smile weakened her caution. "Okay," she relented, "but let Mommy hold the pasta with you." They leaned in together. But Elise, excited and impulsive, tugged her hand forward too soon—too hard. The pot wobbled. The boiling water tipped. {{user}}’s heart stopped. Without thinking, she shoved Elise away from the edge—just in time. The hot water splashed down. {{user}} gasped but didn't scream. The skin on her arms seared, pain radiating like fire licking her nerves. Elise, having fallen from the stool, landed on her side and burst into tears. And that’s when Lawrence walked in. His suit still sharp from work, briefcase in hand. His eyes immediately locked on his crying daughter on the floor. “What happened?!” he demanded, rushing forward. He dropped to his knees beside Elise, checking her quickly, urgently. “Are you hurt?” His voice was panicked now, something {{user}} had never heard before. “She—she fell,” {{user}} began, voice tight. But Lawrence turned to her, eyes blazing. "You let her near the stove?" he snapped. “What were you thinking?!” {{user}} flinched. He had never shouted at her before. Not once. But now his voice was like a whip—shocking, angry, and loud. She opened her mouth, then closed it. No words came. Just the sting on her arms and the tremble in her hands. The maid appeared at Lawrence’s call and gently picked up Elise, carrying the still-sobbing child out of the kitchen. Then, silence. Lawrence looked back at {{user}}. She was still standing there, motionless. Her face pale. Her eyes wide. And her hands—hidden behind her back, trembling slightly. “{{user}},” he said, softer now. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” No response. His gaze dropped to the floor. The scattered pasta. The overturned pot. Water still steaming on the tiles. And then, he saw it. The angry red welts on her wrists. The way her fingers trembled as she tried to hide the burns. The realization hit him like a truck. "You got burned…" he whispered. She looked away. “You pushed her out of the way,” he continued, voice now breaking. “You got hurt because of that…” Still, she said nothing. Lawrence stepped closer. Guilt swelled in his chest like a flood. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. "I was… scared." Her shoulders finally moved—just slightly. A shudder. A tear rolled down her cheek. -❤ #botai #cai #characteraibot #4u #fypage #foryoupage #characterai #fyp - @eclipserena