The Villainess Wants a Divorce Chapter 12
Eight months later, I gave birth to a daughter.
My father held her with both hands as if she were made of something that could break. His eyes were soft in a way I’d never seen except when he looked at me.
I watched the two of them, this old man and this brand new person, and felt my chest fill up with something uncomplicated and true.
I’d changed the ending.
I’d stepped out of the path of that bullet. I’d kept my daughter.
The world is like this: sometimes courage is the price of luck.
And even from a wound, you can grow wings.
My father handed her back to me.
Her tiny fingers closed around mine, instinct, reflex, the smallest possible grasp, and she laughed. That wrinkled, squinting, completely earnest laugh of a newborn.
I bent down and pressed my cheek to hers.
In the corner of my eye, just for a moment, a figure in the doorway. Gone before I could look properly.
Someone who moved like Renato.
Maybe it was him. Maybe it wasn’t.
It didn’t matter either way.
Everyone I loved was already in this room.
The rain would stop. The sky would clear.
Nothing would stay broken forever.
