Evelyn continued her steady march with their children. The boys, sensing the tension, were uncharacteristically quiet. Each step she took away from Victor was a declaration of independence, an act of reclaiming her life and dignity. The crowd parted for her, captivated by her strength and grace under the circumstances. Some onlookers even stepped forward, offering comforting words and nods of solidarity
Victor’s voice found him again, though it wavered with desperation and regret. “Evelyn, wait. Can we talk about this?” But the plea was carried away, lost in the sea of murmurs and clicking shutters. Evelyn did not stop, nor did she turn around. Her silence was her answer.
The scene was chaos incarnate. Journalists peppered Victor with questions, their pens poised to capture every syllable, ready to dissect his downfall in the morning headlines. “What does this mean for your marriage?” one reporter shouted. “Have you any comment on your relationship with Miss…?” another began, but Victor’s glare silenced them momentarily. He felt the weight of their scrutiny, a reminder that his private life was now fodder for public consumption.
