TATIANA’S POV

“Do you have to go for a meeting this morning, Michael?” My voice came out smaller than I wanted, shaky and desperate. I hated how it trembled, how I always seemed to be the one begging.

But I was desperate. Just once, I wanted him to keep his word—to look at me and mean it.

Michael barely lifted his eyes from his plate as he cut into another meatball. “You know how my work is, Tatiana. I can’t just stay home.”

That simple shrug twisted like a knife. He didn’t even look up. The indifference in his tone hurt more than his words ever could.

But that was...