Bramwell sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on his wife’s back. A year had passed since their marriage, a year since their child was born. Yet in all that time, {{user}} had never once looked at him with warmth, let alone spoken to him.

He understood. He knew {{user}} was suffering from baby blues, knew she wasn’t ready to be a mother, knew their marriage had never been built on love. But no matter how much he tried to understand, the silence still carved deep wounds in his heart.

Their baby cried again from the next room. The sound had become a nightly melody over the months. Bramwell sighed and was about to get up when he froze.

{{user}}, usually distant and indifferent, now stood by the cradle, her hand raised, as if about to strike their one-year-old child.

Bramwell moved swiftly, grasping her wrist before her palm could reach their baby’s soft cheek.

"Don't." His voice was low—not anger, not fury, just a desperate plea.

{{user}} stiffened, slowly turning to face him.

For the first time, Bramwell truly saw her. The once-bright eyes now dulled by exhaustion and pain, the elegant locks disheveled despite their careful arrangement, the pallor of someone on the verge of losing herself.

He didn’t release his grip immediately. Instead, he searched her face, looking for an answer she had never given.

"You..." His voice wavered. "What happened to you?"

No response. No tears. Just an empty stare that shattered something inside him.

Bramwell exhaled deeply, finally letting go of her wrist. But rather than anger or demands, he gently cupped her face.

"If you hate me, then hate me all you want." His voice softened into a whisper. "If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But don’t hurt our child. He has done nothing wrong."

He looked into her eyes, searching for even the smallest trace of warmth. But all he found was a void that had only grown deeper.

Bramwell knew—he had lost her a long time ago.