The magnificent Godwoods estate stood tall with impressive elegance, cradled in the cool embrace of towering oak trees that stretched their branches toward the sky. The narrow street, wrapped in the quiet calm of the morning, carried an air of timeless grandeur, as if even time itself hesitated to touch this place. The old yet still breathtaking stonework of the house whispered echoes of the glorious days of the past, while the gentle morning breeze curled through the wide columns, murmuring like a melancholic lament. The entire street seemed to declare that this place had once been home to a grand story.
Carolina Godwoods stood in the long, dimly lit corridor. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath her heels, each step echoing through the old house. Her elegant white blouse, perfectly hugging her slender waist, and the black pencil skirt that ended just above her knees accentuated the graceful curves of her body. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, settling on her chest as her fingers absentmindedly played with a strand. Unconsciously, she gripped the soft fabric of her blouse—a habit, perhaps a quiet expression of the emotions stirring within her.
Her gaze was fixed on a photograph carefully hung on the wall. The captured moment looked back at her with a warmth untouched by time. It was a memory from eight years ago—a sunny summer day. Richard...
Her husband, with his usual cheerful and playful smile, had wrapped his arms tightly around Carolina's shoulders. The warmth of that moment, still alive in the photograph, now twisted painfully inside her. Beside them stood Scharline and Tom, still in their childhood years, their innocent faces reflecting the purity of those who had yet to learn what life had in store for them. Carolina's eyes were locked on the place where Richard's arms encircled her. The growing void within her manifested as a faint reflection on the glass surface of the photo. Her mind drifted back six years, to the moment when a tragic car accident changed everything forever.
Carolina's gaze remained fixed on the past in the photograph. But no matter how long she looked, she knew she could never bring that moment back. Her eyes lingered on Richard's embrace, and the sharp pain spreading through her chest pulled her back to that fateful day six years ago.
That day, the weather was rainy. The asphalt gleamed like a mirror, reflecting the light, while the sky was shrouded in a gray veil. Richard was behind the wheel; Carolina sat in the passenger seat, smiling at him, gently squeezing his hand as he drove. Tom and Scharline sat in the back seat. Visibly bored by the gloomy weather, Scharline stared out the window while Tom played with his new toy. It was an ordinary day for the family—until they reached that curve.
A truck coming from the opposite direction lost control as it rounded the bend. Carolina remembered the panic in Richard's eyes, his instinctive turn of the wheel. A scream, the sound of metal crunching, and then... everything sank into silence. When she opened her eyes, the world had turned upside down. There were broken glass shards everywhere, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. Richard was motionless. Struggling to breathe, Carolina heard Tom’s muffled sobs from the back seat. But there was no sound from Scharline. Her eyes were wide open, as if she wanted to scream, but she had lost consciousness.
The nightmare continued in the hospital corridors... The moment they told her Richard was gone—the moment she fell into the chasm of grief. Endless sleepless nights, tortured by the fear of losing Tom and Scharline, clinging desperately to the little that remained of her family. Nothing was ever the same after that day. Carolina did not even allow herself time to grieve. Her children needed her. She had lost Richard, but Tom and Scharline were still here, and she had to be strong.
Putting aside her grief and heartbreak, Carolina began to raise her children. After her father's death, Scharline had become distant and withdrawn. The once cheerful sparkle in her eyes had faded. Tom was only twelve years old at the time. He couldn't fully grasp what it meant to lose a father, but he could feel the change in their home. Carolina dedicated herself to meeting their every need, trying to fill the void Richard had left behind. She carried her pain alone, allowing her tears to fall only in the solitude of the night, where her children could never see.
The white fluorescent lights burned her eyes. The antiseptic smell of the corridor deepened the emptiness within her, numbing her against the cold floor beneath her feet. A nurse's trembling voice was the first thing to pull Carolina back to reality.
"Mrs. Godwoods... your husband..."
Then, she couldn't remember what happened next. How the words ended, the doctor's expressionless yet grief-laden tone... All she knew was the thin thread beneath her feet had suddenly snapped. The whole world had plunged into silence. Someone tried to support her, hands gripped her arms, but Carolina could only stare at the door ahead of her. Behind that door was Richard. And she would never speak another word to him again.
Her legs suddenly gave out. She pressed her hands to her chest, trying to breathe, but her lungs felt constricted. The unbearable pain rising in her throat threatened to escape as a scream, but no sound came. Only a broken whisper slipped from her lips.
"NO..."
Had it been hours or only minutes? She didn't know. But at some point, when one of the nurses asked her something, she just nodded and said she wanted to see Richard. And now, here she was.
When she opened the door, the room smelled like a hospital—cold, sterile, lifeless. But the man lying in the bed was once the one who lit up her world. He was no longer breathing, but he was still Richard.
Carolina walked slowly, hesitantly, toward the bed. She reached out her hands, then hesitated. Her fingers trembled. She didn't want to see him like this. But this was her last chance. She reached out, and when her fingers met his cold skin, a shiver ran through her. She held his hand, gently brushing her thumb over his palm. These hands were once warm, once brought her comfort... Now, they were ice cold.
"You shouldn’t have left me..."
Her voice was cracked, barely more than a whisper. As tears streamed down her face, her fingers moved through Richard's hair. The man who was once full of life and laughter now lay here—silent, motionless. She closed her eyes, desperately wishing time could rewind. To the moment before they took that turn, back to the sound of Richard's laughter filling the car... But nothing would change. The world moved on mercilessly.
She leaned down, pressing her lips to Richard’s forehead. She lingered there, as if trying to etch his presence into her soul, to hold on to the last traces of his warmth.
"I will always love you..."
Her voice trembled, thick with grief. When she finally pulled away, the emptiness inside her was almost a physical pain. She looked at Richard one last time, engraving his image into her mind. Then, with slow, reluctant steps, she turned away. Beneath the cold hospital lights, half of her heart lay shattered.
The first morning without Richard...
When she woke up, she didn't want to open her eyes. Her mind drifted between sleep and reality, and for just a moment, she could fool herself—maybe it was all a dream, maybe Richard's warmth was still beside her. But when she finally opened her eyes, the bed was empty. Richard was gone. And he was never coming back.
The emptiness of the room pressed against her chest like a crushing weight. She placed her hands on the edge of the bed, trying to push herself up, but her body betrayed her. She was exhausted. She hadn't slept for days, had forgotten to eat. Her eyes burned, her throat was dry. But most of all, she felt hollow inside.
She walked to the bathroom. When she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face pale, and dark circles shadowed her tired eyes. The once calm and strong Carolina Godwoods had become only a shadow of herself. Her fingers lightly touched the mirror, but the woman staring back at her felt like a stranger.
"Mom?"
She flinched at the sound of his voice. Tom stood in the doorway. His small body seemed lost in the vast, boundless emptiness that surrounded them. In his twelve-year-old eyes was something that shouldn't have been there: fear. The fear of being without a father. And in that moment, Carolina realized... she had to be strong. Not just for herself but to keep from losing her children too.
She took a deep breath, but it caught in her throat. She walked over to Tom, knelt down, and hugged him tightly. Feeling his small body in her arms gave her warmth, but it was also like a knife stabbing into her heart. Because Richard was gone, and from now on, everything rested on Carolina's shoulders.
"Everything will be alright, my love..."
She didn't believe her own words, but Tom needed to. The little boy nestled closer to his mother. He didn't say anything—just rested his head against Carolina's chest. And in that moment, Carolina understood. It didn't really matter if she healed, if she had time to grieve. What mattered was never seeing that fear in her children's eyes again.
The first few weeks were a complete nightmare.
Waking up every morning to the reality that Richard was gone... Seeing the empty chair at the table... Realizing at the end of the day that there was no one to share her words with... Each of these things was as cold as death itself.
Scharline took her father's death in silence. She was nineteen, and the absence of her father had left a deep wound inside her. She hadn’t even cried that day. But as the days passed, she began to speak less and less. The light in her eyes dimmed. She shut herself in her room to study, hardly ever coming out, not even to eat. When Carolina called her, she would give short answers before retreating back into silence.
But Tom was different. Every night, he would crawl into his mother's bed. He used to do this only when he had nightmares, but now he didn’t even need to dream. He just needed to be close to her.
One night, as Carolina lay half-asleep, she heard his muffled sobs.
"Did Dad forget us?"
At that moment, every wall inside her crumbled. Carolina held her son tightly in her arms and whispered, "No, never." But she couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks.
The following months were a true battlefield for Carolina.
The bills had piled up. Without Richard, the responsibilities of the house weighed heavily on her. Dealing with bank debts, providing for the children, cooking meals, keeping the house from falling apart... She had to be both mother and father. But the worst part was the loneliness. At night, when everyone was asleep, she would stare at Richard's empty pillow and scream silently.
"What am I going to do, Richard? What will I do without you?"
There was no answer. Only the ticking of the clock echoed through the house's endless silence.
Carolina stood by the large window in the living room, trapped in her thoughts. She could feel the passage of time etching a bit more into her body each day. But it didn’t weaken her; on the contrary, it made her stronger. Her womanhood had been sculpted by the years, adding depth to her gaze and grace to her stance.
The earth-toned buttoned dress she wore gently hugged her slender waist. With every step, the fabric rippled slightly, further accentuating her elegance. Her long, dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, carrying the timeless touch of experience. The smoothness of her skin, the sharp lines of her face, and the slight upward curve of her full lips—Carolina had aged, but she had lost none of her allure. Her fingers rested lightly on the armrest of the chair, absentmindedly caressing the fabric. Sometimes these touches reminded her of feelings her skin had long forgotten.
At that moment, Scharline appeared in the doorway of the living room, a perfect contrast to her mother, embodying the freshness of youth. The simple white crop top she wore revealed her slender waist and smooth skin, while the loose pants allowed her movements to flow naturally with effortless grace. Her light brown hair shone with the vibrancy of youth, and the curve of her lips struck a delicate balance between innocence and quiet allure.
Her beauty was effortless, unforced—a purity that shone in the depths of her eyes.
Standing beside her mother, the contrast between them was striking. Carolina, shaped by the weight of life, exuded an authoritative presence, while Scharline was still discovering where life might take her.
They were bound by blood, but their femininity was entirely opposite.
Carolina’s mature charm was dizzying and commanded respect. Scharline’s beauty, wrapped in quiet, untouched innocence, was the kind that one could never tire of gazing at.
She approached and asked softly, "Mom, are you okay?" Her voice carried a gentle melody, filling the room.
Carolina turned to her daughter and smiled faintly. There was an unspoken bond between them—one shaped by time and pain, by things that could never be put into words.
"I’m fine, sweetheart," Carolina replied, the forced smile still lingering on her lips. But her eyes... her eyes betrayed her. Deep within them lay years of longing and sorrow.
Scharline could see the emotions her mother was trying to hide. Carolina's voice, usually strong and determined, now carried a fragile undertone; a weariness that hadn't been there before.
"I was just lost in thought," she added, softening her words like a pillow to prevent her daughter from worrying further.
Scharline tilted her head slightly and took her mother's hand. The fingers that once held her with unwavering strength now felt a little more fragile, a little more delicate.
As she squeezed her mother's hand, she was pulled back in time—to when she was a child, and those hands were always there to protect and comfort her. But now, Scharline could feel that it was her mother who needed support.
"Is it because of the photo?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Carolina slowly lifted her head. In the dim light of the living room, she looked at her daughter and saw Richard in her. The soft waves of her light brown hair, the warmth in her eyes, the way she moved her hands carefully as if afraid to break something... Richard had always been the strongest part of their family. And now, Carolina was trying to carry that strength alone.
She nodded.
A brief smile appeared on her lips, but it was filled more with nostalgia and longing than joy.
Scharline tightened her grip on her mother's hand. Her touch was warm and sincere, filled with the instinctive protection and affection a child feels for their parent.
"If Dad were here today, he would be so proud of us."
The silence in the room was broken by those words.
Carolina felt the thin crack inside her widen into a deep chasm. Richard... If he were here, would he really feel that way? His absence wasn't just a loss—it was an empty echo that resonated through Carolina's soul.
She swallowed, trying to suppress the sadness rising in her throat.
"I hope so," Carolina whispered.
But there was a hesitation, an uncertainty in her voice.
Her words hung in the air, as if even she wasn't sure whether she believed them.
Because Richard wasn't here. And with each passing day, his absence grew heavier.
At Night...
Nights were the hardest. When the house was cloaked in silence, when the children retreated to their rooms, when the world outside fell into slumber... Carolina's mind fought its fiercest battles. Thoughts overwhelmed her, suffocating her as memories of the past and the uncertainty of the future intertwined. Financial worries, the crushing weight of responsibility, the fate of her children... Everything tightened around her like a knot, pulling her deeper into an inevitable grip.
As a mother, she had to make everything right. She had to stay strong. But inside, she was falling apart. And worst of all, she didn't have the luxury of showing it to anyone.
Scharline noticed her mother had drifted into her thoughts. She recognized that expression—the look of someone trying to hide things but unable to stop the sadness from spilling out of their eyes. Wanting to comfort her, she gently squeezed her fingers.
"You know, Mom... sometimes... sometimes it feels like Dad is still here. Like he's watching over us, protecting us."
Carolina looked at her daughter. The innocent belief of youth still shone in her eyes. She could still hold onto something. And just for that, Carolina knew she had to keep going.
She nodded slightly, taking her daughter's hand into her own and gently stroking it.
"I want to feel that too, sweetheart," she said, her voice warmer this time. Softer. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to believe it—even if only a little.
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