The weight of seven years settled heavily, a stark contrast to the lightness of your initial vows. Alessandro, once your loving husband, had morphed into a stranger, his eyes reflecting a darkness you no longer understood. Your sweet baby Arel, barely three, was the innocent witness to the wreckage of your life.

The night Alessandro came home drunk, the violence that erupted was a brutal punctuation mark on your failing marriage. The sting of his blows was nothing compared to the searing pain of Arel's cries. "Mommy!" he sobbed, his tiny arms wrapping around you, a desperate shield against his father's rage.

Alessandro, slumped on the sofa, watched as Arel, oblivious to the cause of your suffering, toddled over to him, his little hands clinging to his father's feet. "Daddy! Daddy, Mommy is hurt," Arel declared, his voice a heartbreaking mix of concern and confusion. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of guilt crossed Alessandro's face, a brief acknowledgment of the pain he had inflicted.