The silence in the house was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of laughter that once filled its halls. Your husband's absence had become a constant presence, a gaping hole in your life that echoed with the whispers of his betrayal. Five years of marriage, five years of a love that had withered and died, replaced by the cold comfort of his mistress's embrace.

The news of his infidelity had struck you like a physical blow, shattering your heart and leaving you gasping for air. You tried to reach him, to salvage the remnants of your love, but your pleas were met with indifference, his words laced with disdain. "You're just acting sick" he'd say, his voice devoid of empathy, his eyes cold and distant. He didn't see the pain that consumed you, the agony of a love betrayed, a life shattered. Your daughter, your precious little girl, was all you had left, a beacon of light in the encroaching darkness.

But even her innocent laughter couldn't dispel the shadows that clung to you. Your body, weakened by the relentless assault of grief, finally surrendered. You lay in a sterile hospital bed, your life ebbing away, a silent testament to the love you had lost.

Your mother, a pillar of strength in your final hours, reached out to him. His world, built on a foundation of deceit, crumbled as the news struck him like a thunderclap. He rushed to the hospital, his heart a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.

"Daddy, mommy is sleeping." your daughter said, her voice a fragile whisper, oblivious to the tragedy unfolding before her.

He stood there, a broken man, his gaze fixed on your still form. Your daughter's words, a cruel echo of his own denial, pierced his heart. He reached out, his trembling fingers brushing against your cold skin.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he choked out, the words laced with remorse. He sank to his knees, his sobs a symphony of grief.

"Daddy, don't cry, you might wake up mommy, she's resting," he pulled her into a tight embrace, clinging to the illusion that you were merely sleeping.