Quando Angela exigiu que seu marido enviasse seu pai idoso para uma casa de repouso, ela nunca imaginou a escolha ousada que ele faria. Dividido entre amor e lealdade, a decisão de Stefan remodelou o futuro de sua família.
A luz da manhã entrava pelas persianas rachadas da cozinha, caindo em suaves raios dourados pela sala. Gektor estava sentado à mesa, tomando seu café. Sua mão tremia levemente quando ele levantou a xícara, os anos o alcançando.
Um homem idoso tomando café | Fonte: Freepik
A pequena casa rangia e gemia, assim como seus joelhos quando ele ficava de pé. Mas era o lar, a casa que ele havia construído com Lina, sua esposa de 45 anos.
As paredes estavam cheias de fotos. Alex em sua beca de formatura, Stefan sorrindo de orelha a orelha enquanto segurava um peixe quase tão grande quanto ele, e Lina, sua esposa, sorrindo em cada quadro. O peito de Gektor apertava toda vez que ele olhava para ela.
Ela parecia tão jovem, seu sorriso tão largo quanto o horizonte e seus olhos brilhavam com o tipo de amor que não desaparecia.
Uma foto em preto e branco de uma mulher sorridente | Fonte: Midjourney
Ele falou suavemente, sua voz tremendo. “Você sempre disse que eu ficaria velho e irritado. Bem, você estava meio certa, Lina.” Ele sorriu, embora não tenha alcançado seus olhos.
A casa estava quieta sem ela. Quieta demais. Mas no silêncio, Gektor ainda conseguia sentir sua presença. A cadeira gasta no canto, sua xícara de chá favorita no armário, até mesmo o leve cheiro de lavanda dos sachês que ela havia enfiado nas gavetas, tudo sussurrava sobre a vida que eles haviam compartilhado.
Um homem idoso triste | Fonte: Freepik
“Sinto sua falta todos os dias”, ele murmurou, apertando o medalhão com força. “Mas eu vou continuar. Por você. Por nossos meninos.”
“Pai, você está bem?” A voz de Stefan quebrou o silêncio.
Gektor se virou para ver seu filho mais novo parado na porta. “Estou bem, só pensando.”
Um homem idoso conversando com seu filho | Fonte: Midjourney
Stefan assentiu, sua natureza firme estampada em seu rosto calmo. Ele era o único que ficava, sempre confiável, sempre aqui. Alex tinha se mudado para o outro lado do país depois da faculdade de direito, enquanto Stefan tinha trazido Angela para casa três anos atrás. Foi quando as coisas começaram a mudar.
“Café da manhã?”, perguntou Stefan, indo em direção ao fogão.
“Ainda não estou com fome”, disse Gektor, levantando-se lentamente. Ele podia sentir a presença de Angela antes de vê-la.
Um homem idoso triste e imerso em pensamentos | Fonte: Freepik
“Stefan, não temos o dia todo”, ela disse bruscamente, entrando na cozinha. Seus saltos estalavam contra o chão, embora não houvesse ninguém para impressionar. “Devemos sair em uma hora.”
“Eu sei, Ange. Vou fazer algo rápido.”
Angela revirou os olhos. “Tudo bem. Mas não se atrase, ok?”
Ela mal olhou para Gektor antes de sair, seu telefone já em mãos. Gektor suspirou, sentando-se novamente.
Uma mulher séria ao telefone | Fonte: Freepik
“Ela está apenas estressada”, disse Stefan, embora não parecesse convencido.
“Ela está sempre estressada”, Gektor respondeu suavemente, seus olhos seguindo a figura dela que se afastava.
Angela tinha um jeito de se fazer conhecida, mesmo na ausência. Aquele dia não foi diferente.
“Pai, você viu minhas chaves?” Stefan chamou da sala de estar.
Um homem procurando suas chaves | Fonte: Midjourney
“Não”, Gektor respondeu, arrastando os pés em direção ao som. A voz de Angela flutuou do quarto, cortante e cortante.
“Não sei como você vive assim, Stefan”, ela disse. “Esta casa é muito pequena. Está caindo aos pedaços. E ele—”
“Ange, não”, disse Stefan, interrompendo-a.
Gektor parou perto da porta, seu coração afundando. Ele nunca a tinha ouvido falar daquele jeito. Não abertamente. Ele recuou, sem vontade de ouvir mais.
Um homem idoso pensativo | Fonte: Freepik
O jantar naquela noite foi tranquilo. Angela limpou o prato de Gektor antes que ele terminasse, ignorando seu pequeno protesto.
“Eu não terminei”, ele murmurou.
“Bem, ele estava ali”, ela disse sem olhar para ele.
Stefan abriu a boca como se fosse dizer algo, então fechou. Gektor viu a queda de seus ombros, o peso que ele carregava ficando mais pesado a cada dia.
Um homem cansado | Fonte: Freepik
“Stefan, podemos conversar?”, disse Angela depois do jantar, com a voz baixa, mas firme.
“Agora?” ele perguntou, olhando para Gektor.
“Sim, agora.”
Os dois desapareceram no quarto, suas vozes abafadas, mas aquecidas. Gektor não queria ouvir, mas enquanto caminhava pelo corredor para pegar um cobertor, as palavras de Angela o fizeram parar.
Um homem sério ouvindo | Fonte: Pexels
“Terminei, Stefan. Aquele velho precisa ir embora”, ela sibilou. “Mande seu pai para um asilo, ou eu vou embora. Eu já paguei por um lugar. Você só precisa levá-lo.”
A resposta de Stefan foi mais baixa, mais difícil de ouvir, mas o peso da demanda de Angela esmagou Gektor. Ele sentiu os joelhos enfraquecerem, sua respiração ficar presa no peito.
Na manhã seguinte, Gektor sentou-se à mesa com sua bolsa ao lado. Stefan entrou, seu rosto pálido, seus olhos vermelhos.
“Pai…” ele começou, com a voz embargada.
Um homem conversando com seu filho | Fonte: Midjourney
Gektor levantou a mão. “Está tudo bem, filho. Eu entendo.”
“Mas-“
“Não”, Gektor disse firmemente. “Você tem que viver sua vida, Stefan. Não deixe que eu seja a razão pela qual ela desmorona.”
O silêncio entre eles era pesado enquanto caminhavam até o carro. Nenhum deles falou enquanto Stefan dirigia, os nós dos dedos brancos no volante. Gektor olhou pela janela, imaginando para onde estavam indo, mas cansado demais para perguntar.
Um homem dirigindo | Fonte: Pexels
“Pai”, Stefan disse finalmente, sua voz tremendo. “Eu… eu não consigo mais fazer isso.”
Gektor virou-se para ele, franzindo as sobrancelhas. “O que você quer dizer?”
Eles entraram no aeroporto, e Stefan desligou o motor. “Você não vai para um lar. Você vai comigo.”
Gektor saiu do carro, apertando os olhos contra a luz do sol que refletia nas janelas de vidro do terminal do aeroporto. Ele agarrou sua pequena bolsa com força, confusão estampada em seu rosto.
Um terminal de aeroporto | Fonte: Pexels
“Para onde… estamos indo?” ele perguntou, com a voz hesitante.
Os lábios de Stefan se apertaram em um sorriso apertado, seus olhos brilhando. “Vamos conhecer Alex. E sua família.”
“O quê?” Gektor perguntou, suas sobrancelhas se juntando. “Mas Angela—”
“Eu disse a ela para arrumar suas coisas,” Stefan interrompeu, sua voz firme agora. “Ela vai encontrar minha carta quando chegar em casa.”
Um homem sério de terno | Fonte: Pexels
Por um momento, Gektor ficou sem palavras. Ele estudou o rosto do filho, procurando por dúvida ou arrependimento. Mas não havia nenhum — apenas amor e determinação.
“Você me defendeu?”, sussurrou Gektor.
Stefan assentiu. “Você me ensinou, pai. Eu não ia deixar ela te tratar como se você não importasse. Você importa para mim. Para Alex. Para todos nós.”
Lágrimas brotaram nos olhos de Gektor enquanto ele estendeu a mão para segurar o ombro do filho. “Obrigado, Stefan. Obrigado.”
Um idoso chorando | Fonte: Pexels
O resort brilhava sob o sol da tarde, suas praias de areia branca se estendendo infinitamente contra as ondas azuis. Gektor olhou pela janela do carro, seu queixo caído de admiração.
“Pai!” A voz de Alex retumbou assim que Gektor pisou na calçada de paralelepípedos. Alex envolveu seu pai em um abraço de urso, quase o levantando do chão.
“Alex! Coloque-o no chão antes que você o quebre”, Stefan riu, descarregando a bagagem.
Um homem abraçando seu filho | Fonte: Freepik
“Não consigo evitar”, disse Alex, sorrindo de orelha a orelha. “É bom ver você, pai. Faz muito tempo.”
Gektor riu, balançando a cabeça. “Você ainda tem a força de um touro.”
A esposa de Alex, Maria, juntou-se a eles com as crianças a tiracolo — dois meninos de olhos arregalados que correram direto para o avô. “Vovô!”, gritaram em uníssono, envolvendo os braços em volta das pernas dele.
“Uau, cuidado aí”, disse Gektor, gargalhando.
Pai e filho felizes | Fonte: Freepik
A tarde derreteu em uma noite quente e fácil. A família se reuniu na praia, comendo peixe grelhado e frutas frescas sob um dossel de estrelas. Gektor observou seus netos correndo uns contra os outros ao longo da costa enquanto Stefan e Alex debatiam a melhor maneira de fazer uma fogueira.
“Pai”, disse Maria, sentando-se ao lado dele. “Você criou dois homens incríveis. Você deveria estar orgulhoso.”
“Estou”, Gektor respondeu suavemente, sua voz cheia de emoção.
Um homem conversando com sua nora | Fonte: Pexels
Pela primeira vez em anos, Gektor se sentiu leve, como se os fardos que ele carregou por tanto tempo tivessem sido deixados para trás.
Enquanto isso, Angela entrou em uma casa vazia. Seus saltos ecoaram no chão de ladrilhos enquanto ela colocava sua bolsa no balcão da cozinha.
“Stefan?” ela chamou, mas o silêncio respondeu.
Então ela viu o envelope. Seu nome rabiscado na frente com a letra inconfundível de Stefan fez seu estômago revirar.
Mulher abrindo uma carta | Fonte: Freepik
Ela abriu-a, examinando a carta rapidamente. As palavras a atingiram como um soco:
“Não posso viver em um lar onde o respeito não seja recíproco. Meu pai não é um fardo. Ele é uma benção. Se você não consegue ver isso, então você e eu não temos um futuro juntos.”
O rosto de Angela se contorceu de fúria. Ela amassou a carta, jogando-a no chão. “Inacreditável”, ela murmurou, andando de um lado para o outro na sala. “Ele realmente foi embora. Por ele.”
Sua raiva aumentou, mas por baixo dela havia algo mais: a percepção de que Stefan havia escolhido seu pai em vez dela.
Uma mulher furiosa | Fonte: Freepik
E não havia nada que ela pudesse fazer a respeito.
Meses depois, de volta à casa, Gektor estava na varanda observando Stefan martelar uma placa de madeira no chão, na beira da entrada da garagem.
“Bem-vindo ao lar. Somente para a família”, dizia em letras garrafais.
“Parece bom”, disse Gektor, com a voz firme e calorosa.
Um homem idoso sorridente | Fonte: Pexels
Stefan enxugou o suor da testa, recuando para admirar seu trabalho. “É disso que se trata esta casa”, ele disse simplesmente.
Gektor se apoiou no corrimão, um pequeno sorriso brincando em seus lábios. “Você fez certo, filho. Sua mãe ficaria orgulhosa.”
“Aprendi com os melhores”, respondeu Stefan, olhando para ele.
Um homem confiante e sorridente do lado de fora | Fonte: Pexels
O olhar de Gektor permaneceu no pátio, agora quieto e pacífico. Ele pensou em Angela não com raiva ou arrependimento, mas com uma sensação de clareza. Ela tinha sido uma tempestade passageira, mas a fundação de sua família tinha permanecido firme.
Pela primeira vez em anos, Gektor se sentiu realmente em casa.
Um homem idoso sorridente do lado de fora | Fonte: Pexels
O nascimento do nosso primeiro filho se transformou em um pesadelo quando meu marido fez uma acusação chocante sobre sua paternidade. Fiquei magoada, mas determinada a provar minha inocência, mas quando a mãe do meu marido se envolveu, ameaçando destruir minha vida, descobri algo que mudou as coisas para sempre.
Este trabalho é inspirado em eventos e pessoas reais, mas foi ficcionalizado para fins criativos. Nomes, personagens e detalhes foram alterados para proteger a privacidade e melhorar a narrativa. Qualquer semelhança com pessoas reais, vivas ou mortas, ou eventos reais é mera coincidência e não intencional do autor.
O autor e a editora não fazem nenhuma reivindicação quanto à precisão dos eventos ou à representação dos personagens e não são responsáveis por nenhuma interpretação errônea. Esta história é fornecida “como está”, e quaisquer opiniões expressas são as dos personagens e não refletem as opiniões do autor ou da editora.
I Hired a Doula to Accompany Me During My Delivery and Was Shocked to Find Out Who She Really Was – Story of the Day
I always dreamed of becoming a mother, and finally, my dream was coming true. But the joy of expecting a child was overshadowed by my husband’s unexpected business trip and the arrival of a stranger who turned out to be connected to my past.
My husband David and I had been preparing and planning for a child for a long time, but for many years, nothing worked out. We had tried everything we could think of, and the constant disappointment was heartbreaking.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But eight months ago, everything changed. I finally saw those coveted two lines on the pregnancy test. This pregnancy was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
The joy I felt was indescribable. I knew I would never abandon this child as someone once did to me. Even though I was adopted when I was a year old, and my adoptive parents were wonderful, learning that I was adopted broke me at the time.
It felt like a part of my identity was missing. But now, I was eagerly awaiting our baby, ready to give them all the love I had received and more.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
David and I decided to have a partner birth, so I knew it would be a special moment for both of us.
One evening, when David returned from work, he looked very tired and worried. I tried to find out what had happened, but he only responded that everything was fine.
We had dinner in silence, and I felt he wasn’t telling me something. The tension in the air was thick, and I could see he was struggling with something.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“David, please talk to me. It’s hard for me to see you like this,” I said, my voice soft but insistent.
David sighed heavily and rubbed his nose, looking down at the floor. “Alright,” he began slowly. “I’ve been sent on a business trip in ten days. I’ll be paid very well for it, and I thought it was a good opportunity since the baby is coming soon.”
“That’s great. Why do you look so sad then?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Because they don’t know how long they’ll need me there. They said to expect anywhere from two weeks to a month,” David said, his voice strained.
“But the birth could happen during that time,” I said, placing a hand on my stomach, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over me.
“I know. That’s why I’m in this state,” David replied, his eyes filled with worry.
“Then refuse,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t. It will affect my future work, and we could use the extra money,” he explained, frustration evident in his tone.
“But you might not be there for the birth,” I said, my voice breaking slightly.
David got up and came over to me, hugging me tightly. “That’s why I found a doula for you. I want you to have support while I’m away,” he said, his voice gentle.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I want to give birth with my husband, not some stranger,” I said, dissatisfied.
“I know. But Martha is very good, and many people recommended her to me,” he tried to reassure me.
“I don’t like this idea,” I said, shaking my head.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll try to return as soon as possible, but I want us to have some backup. Let me arrange a meeting with her while I’m still here. If you don’t like her, we’ll look for other options,” he offered, trying to find a compromise.
“I don’t want other options. I want you to be with me,” I insisted, feeling tears well up in my eyes.
“I want to be with you and the baby too,” David said, placing his hand on my belly. “That’s why I feel awful about having to leave. But we’ll get through this, and I hope to be back before you start giving birth, okay?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Okay,” I said softly.
That evening, we just lay together, hugging, as if not wanting to let each other go for even a moment. The fear of him not being there for the birth was heavy in my heart, but I knew we had to face this together, even if it meant being apart for a little while.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Two days after that conversation with David, I was on my way to meet the doula, Martha. To be honest, I wasn’t very positive about this meeting because I didn’t fully understand how a stranger could support me during such an important moment.
I parked near the café where Martha and I had agreed to meet and went inside. The café was warm and inviting, with the rich smell of coffee filling the air. I looked around, not knowing which of the people there was Martha.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Suddenly, a woman sitting alone at a table waved at me, and I realized it was her. She looked older than I expected, around 50, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. I approached and sat at the table.
“Hi! I’m Martha, and you must be Sheila,” she said, her smile warm and inviting.
“Yes, but how did you know it was me?” I asked, a bit surprised.
“You looked confused… and pregnant,” she added with a gentle laugh.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Right, I just feel like this belly has always been with me,” I said, laughing too.
“I understand, but believe me, you’ll feel such relief when it’s gone,” Martha said, nodding.
“I can only imagine,” I replied, trying to picture that moment.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Martha and I talked for two hours. She explained what her work would involve and how she could help me. She spoke about different techniques for pain management, relaxation, and support during labor.
I described how I envisioned the process, emphasizing the importance of a calm and supportive environment. It turned out our views were very similar, and we immediately found common ground.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Martha’s experience and empathy reassured me, and I was grateful to David for coming up with this idea.
As the conversation was ending, Martha asked, “Do you have any more questions for me?”
“Yes, I don’t want to be tactless, but do you have children?” I asked, feeling a bit awkward.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“No, I decided to dedicate my life to medical school and then to working in this field, but now I’m here,” Martha said, smiling. “But I have given birth,” she added softly.
“Oh…” I said, sensing it might have been something very personal and possibly traumatic for her.
We stood up from the table, and Martha came over to hug me goodbye. As she hugged me, I noticed her looking at the large birthmark on my shoulder.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“In my teenage years, I thought about removing it because I didn’t like it, but now I consider it my unique feature,” I said, trying to make light of it. Martha looked at me, puzzled. “I’m talking about the birthmark,” I added for clarity.
“Oh, yes. It’s very nice,” Martha said, rushing off. I didn’t understand her behavior but decided to ignore it. Maybe she remembered she was late for something.
As I left the café, I felt a mix of relief and curiosity, wondering more about this woman who would be by my side during such an important moment.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Time passed, and my due date was approaching. It was hard without David during this period, but Martha was very supportive. She visited almost every day and even helped with household chores.
Her presence was comforting, and she always knew how to calm my nerves. I felt like Martha understood me like no one else. It was as if we were related, and I couldn’t shake that feeling.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
David was supposed to fly back home that day, and I just hoped he would make it before our baby started to arrive. Martha and I were checking my hospital bag, probably for the tenth time, due to my anxiety.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure everything you need is there. If anything is missing, I’ll definitely bring it,” Martha said, her voice calm and reassuring.
“I know, I just want everything to go perfectly,” I replied, trying to hide my anxiety.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, dear. This is childbirth; it can’t be perfect. But your baby will be, and that’s what matters,” she said, smiling.
“Thank you, Martha,” I said, feeling a bit better. I went to the kitchen to pour myself some cold juice. As I approached the fridge, I felt something was wrong. I realized my water bag had broken. I immediately went to Martha.
“My water broke,” I said, panicking, my voice trembling.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Quick, sit down,” Martha said, helping me to the couch. Within seconds, I felt the first contraction and screamed.
“Breathe, remember how I taught you to breathe,” Martha said. But the pain was too intense for me to think clearly. “Breathe, Amber, breathe,” she said, and it snapped me out of my panic.
“What did you call me?” I asked, confused.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I meant Sheila, sorry, I made a mistake,” Martha said quickly. “But you need to focus on your breathing now.”
“When I was born, they named me Amber. But my mother abandoned me, and my adoptive parents renamed me when I was a year old, right after they adopted me. Don’t tell me this is a coincidence,” I pressed her, my heart racing.
“Sheila, it truly is just a coincidence,” Martha said, her face serious.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What happened to the baby? You said you gave birth but have no children. What happened to that baby?” I asked, my voice rising.
“I gave her up for adoption,” Martha answered quietly.
“It was me, wasn’t it? I felt something was off. I noticed we were too similar,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Sheila, you need to focus on your baby now,” Martha said, trying to keep me calm.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“It was me?!” I shouted, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.
“Yes,” Martha admitted.
“And how long have you known?” I demanded.
“Since our first meeting when I saw your birthmark,” Martha said, her eyes filled with regret.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me all this time!” I cried, feeling betrayed.
“Sheila, I wanted to do the right thing,” she said, her voice breaking.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see you,” I said, struggling to get up from the couch, grabbing my hospital bag, and heading to the car.
“What are you doing?” Martha shouted after me.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’m driving myself to the hospital, and you can leave. I don’t want to see you,” I replied.
“That’s dangerous!” she shouted, but I ignored her. The contractions were coming fast, but I couldn’t think about anything other than getting to the hospital and being away from Martha.
I got into the car, feeling intense contractions but trying to drive anyway. The pain was overwhelming, making it hard to focus on the road. The drive to the hospital felt endless, each bump and turn amplifying the agony.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
I kept trying to call David, but he wasn’t answering his phone. He was probably still on the plane. I prayed he would make it in time.
When I finally reached the hospital, nurses surrounded me with concern. They asked me many questions I couldn’t answer in my state. They quickly put me in a room, and a doctor told me I would give birth within two hours.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My labor was progressing rapidly. David still hadn’t called me back, and the worry added to my pain. My whole body was in agony, and I felt like I couldn’t bear it any longer.
Suddenly, I saw the door to the room open, and Martha walked in.
“I don’t want to see you!” I screamed, my voice filled with pain and anger.
Martha calmly approached me. “I called David. He was leaving the airport and should be on his way here,” she said. “I know you’re angry, but I can help you until David arrives.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t need anything from you!” I shouted, but then another contraction began, making me cry out in pain. Martha breathed with me and applied a cold compress to my head.
I decided to stop arguing. I really needed support, even if it was from the woman who had abandoned me and then lied. An hour later, the pushing began, and the doctor said it was time to give birth.
“I don’t want to give birth without David!” I cried. “He should be here soon.”
“Sweetheart, the baby is the priority now, and we can’t delay,” Martha said gently.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“No! I want my husband by my side!” I pleaded, but they didn’t listen. The doctor and nurses gathered around me. “Please, wait for David!”
Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and a breathless David walked in. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he said, taking my hand. Relief washed over me as I felt his strong grip.
David and Martha supported and helped me as much as they could. Martha held my hand and reminded me to breathe while David stayed by my side, encouraging me.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my daughter was born. It was the best and happiest moment of my life. Her first cry filled the room, and tears of joy streamed down my face.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
A few hours after the birth, Martha came to me. David was asleep in a chair, holding our daughter.
“I’m sorry for abandoning you and lying, but—” Martha began, her voice soft and filled with regret.
I interrupted her, “I don’t want to talk about this now. But we will discuss it later, and you will explain everything to me.”
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I didn’t want to spoil this day with unpleasant conversations. Martha nodded sadly and was about to leave the room.
“Can you bring me some cold juice? I didn’t get to drink it,” I asked her, trying to keep things light.
Martha smiled. “Of course,” she said and left the room. As I watched her go, I thought that now that I was a mother myself, maybe I could understand why she did what she did.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
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