Nine years ago, I was framed by my ex‑lover’s mother. My family was destroyed, and my left arm was permanently disabled. I survived quietly by selling vegetables in the market. One day, I overheard her proudly bragging about ruining me. Pregnant and broken, I went to her son—now a respected Spartan healer—and asked to end the pregnancy. When the truth finally came out, he was overcome with regret. But I felt nothing but numbness. I no longer hated, nor did I forgive. I just wanted to walk away and never see them again.