Lydia's eyes widened the hurt in them like a physical blow. Her lips parted as if to speak, but instead, her voice came out in a trembling whisper. "I remember very well that my daughter died, Arthur. I don't need you to remind me." Tears welled up in her eyes, and her tone cracked under the weight of her grief. "I held her in my arms as she took her last breath. I remember every second of it."
Her words were heavy, each syllable laced with an ache so profound that it left Arthur momentarily speechless. Before he could gather himself, Lydia turned sharply and began to leave, her movements brisk but unsteady, like someone barely holding themselves together.
"Lydia!" Arthur called after her, his voice thick with regret as he followed. "Please, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Stop! Listen to me!"
