Abigail's tears fell ceaselessly, each droplet carrying a fragment of her pain. She clung to her mother's hands, her grip tight and desperate. She yearned for a sign, a flicker of guidance, but all she got was a painful stare and silence in return.
In the midst of her heartache, she cracked a grin.
"I know I have to find the answers on my own," she murmured. "Finding the truth will be a tumultuous one, but I will do it." She bent her neck and looked up at the ceiling as if talking to God in heaven. "I wish I could go to Christopher."
With heavy sighs and tear-stained cheeks, Abigail mustered the strength to rise from her position. She knew that she couldn't abandon her faith in Christopher just yet. There were questions to be answered, conversations to be had, and the truth to be unveiled.
She made a silent promise to herself and to the love they shared. She would confront Christopher and seek the truth before jumping to any conclusions.