In Sabrina's universe, there simply wasn't enough space for all three of them—herself, Cullen, and Niall—to exist harmoniously.

When she had asked Veronica to attend her competition without including Niall in the invitation, she'd made it abundantly clear that she understood the complicated dynamics at play.

On a day that truly mattered to her, Sabrina had chosen Veronica over everyone else. Yet Veronica couldn't find it in herself to feel particularly pleased about this gesture of preference.

The competition was scheduled for the upcoming weekend.

Typically, weekends were Veronica's free time. In most families, a child's competition would be considered a significant event. Any parent worth their salt would naturally prioritize their child's important moments.

Previously, Veronica would have done exactly that—placed Sabrina above everything else without question. All other commitments would have taken a backseat. But now...

She couldn't ignore the hopeful glimmer in Sabrina's eyes. Despite this, her response remained deliberately vague: "I'll see when the time comes. If nothing urgent comes up, I'll attend."

Over the past six months, Sabrina had called Veronica countless times and expressed numerous wishes. She'd learned to decode Veronica's patterns.

Whenever her mother used noncommittal phrases like "when the time comes" or "if," it almost invariably meant she wouldn't show up.

Hearing this familiar evasion, Sabrina felt a prickling sensation in her nose as her eyes began to redden. She released Veronica's hand, sniffled quietly, and simply murmured "Okay," without elaborating further.

Veronica noticed every subtle reaction. She wasn't completely heartless—of course not. Even so, she had no intention of altering her stance.

She extended her hand, planning to gently ruffle Sabrina's hair before departing. However, the moment her fingers approached, Sabrina turned her head away with a pronounced pout.

Veronica's hand froze mid-air. She withdrew it without attempting to offer comfort. Instead, she simply turned around and walked away.

Cullen witnessed the entire exchange. He neither attempted to stop Veronica nor tried to persuade her to reconsider.

Sabrina kept her small face averted from Veronica's direction, refusing eye contact, though she remained attentive to the sounds around her.

When she heard the distinctive click-clack of high heels growing fainter and realized Veronica had truly departed—without making any effort to console her—she finally surrendered to her emotions.

She spun around and threw her arms around Cullen's leg, bursting into heartbroken sobs.

Her fencing coach stood there, completely astonished.

Sabrina had always demonstrated maturity and intelligence beyond her years. She was vibrant and opinionated. During the past six months, many children at the fencing academy had broken down in tears numerous times.

Yet this marked the first occasion he'd ever witnessed Sabrina crying.

That very morning, Veronica had acquiesced to every single one of Sabrina's requests, speaking to her with unprecedented gentleness and attentiveness.

He never anticipated that, even fully aware of her child's hurt and disappointment, Veronica could walk away without so much as a backward glance.

The impression Veronica gave was that of a mother who had somehow detached from her daughter. Such apparent coldness genuinely shocked him.

Any other father might have confronted his ex-wife immediately, demanding an explanation for such treatment of their child.

But Cullen's expression revealed none of those impulses—no accusation, no argument, nothing. He simply observed Veronica's departure in silence.

Then he knelt down, lifted Sabrina into his arms, and delicately wiped her tears with his fingertips. "Feeling pretty upset, aren't you?"

Sabrina clung tightly to his neck and cried even harder, her words punctuated by sobs, "I'm sad and Mom doesn't even care... She just... just left..."

Cullen spoke softly, "Mm, I saw that."

Sabrina released an even louder wail and intensified her crying. "Mom... Does Mom not love me anymore...?"

Cullen chuckled gently, "Of course not."

Sabrina peered at him through tear-filled eyes. "R-Really?"

Cullen produced a handkerchief and carefully wiped her nose. "I promise."

His reassurance provided some comfort, but when she recalled how Veronica had departed without offering any consolation, fresh tears welled up. "Then why didn't Mom try to make me feel better...?"

Cullen affectionately pinched her soft, rounded cheek and smiled without offering an answer.

Sabrina pointed at him accusingly. "I-I'm this upset and y-you're still laughing..."

Cullen accepted the backpack her coach handed over.

Carrying both Sabrina and her bag, he began walking toward the exit. "How about I take you out for a special meal to cheer you up?"

"I don't want that. I just want Mom."

"That's beyond my control. You saw it yourself—when it comes to your mom, I have absolutely no influence."

Sabrina found herself speechless in response.