When Amara became pregnant, Etha vowed to shield her. But promises are fragile things when evil wears the mask of love.

Helen began visiting “to help.” She brought gifts, advice, and on one fateful morning — a cup of herbal tea.

“It’s an old family recipe,” she said smoothly. “For a healthy pregnancy.”

Amara hesitated, but kindness often trusts too easily. She drank it, smiled faintly… and within an hour, collapsed.

Etha rushed her to the hospital, frantic and pale. But after hours of desperate attempts, the doctor finally whispered the words that shattered him:

“I’m sorry. We lost them both.”

He dropped to his knees beside her lifeless hand.

When it came time to decide the funeral, he faltered. Amara had always feared fire — she wanted to be buried — but his mother insisted on cremation.
Blinded by sorrow, he gave in.