He gripped the bottle with both hands, feeding his little brother until sleep claimed him, leaving the bottle half full.

As Camila was about to set it down, Joe drank it.

He was no stranger to formula milk.

Its aroma was quite appealing to him.

With the baby fast asleep, Camila turned her attention to her eldest son.

The struggle of their infant days still haunted her, filling her with guilt for not breastfeeding them.

“Mom. Did you give birth to my baby brother too?" Joe inquired innocently.

Camila affirmed, though curious about his sudden question.

“Why do you want to know?"

Joe, his eyes sparkling with intelligence, responded, “Grandma told me that both my brother and I came from inside my mother's tummy."

Camila was at a loss for words.

At eight thirty in the evening.

Fresh from the shower, Camila faced the mirror, her reflection marred by the scar on her neck.

As the door creaked open, she adjusted her collar and turned around.

Isaac lingered by the door, witnessing Camila's every move with distinct clarity before stepping in.

"Has dinner been served yet?" Camila inquired.

Instead of providing an answer, he moved closer to her, delicately tracing his fingers along her scarred cheek.

“What if I marry you looking like this? Will people ridicule you for wedding an unsightly woman?" she joked.

“No one dares to say it." His thumb grazed her cheek gently.

"But they will talk about me behind my back."