Zarah's pov
Michael forced me to sit down and passed a cup of cappuccino to mf.
I sat so still, so scared, still holding the crumpled letter in my hands. The weight of what had just happened felt heavier by the minute. Damon was dying. I didn't know what that meant, not really, but I felt it in every fiber of my being. And one thing was sure — I still loved him and he was the father of my son.
I had to be there for him. But now, there was something additional — something I hadn't told Michael yet. And I needed to tell him as a part of him kept tugging in my heart telling me something was off.
Michael was pacing, hands rubbing the back of his neck as if he were trying to shake off the pressure that had filled the room.