While trying on my wedding dress, a message from an unknown woman appeared on my phone. “I’m pregnant, and I can’t get ahold of your fiancé. Can you pass the message along?” My fingers went numb, and with eyes burning, I confronted Evan. But he just deleted the text dismissively. “Probably just one of my friends losing a bet on truth or dare,” he said. On the drive home, usually smooth and steady, he nearly ran several red lights. He gently unfastened my seatbelt and, with an apologetic look, said, “I can’t make dinner tonight; I’ll be working late.” As I watched his car speed away, it felt like a massive weight was sinking to the pit of my stomach. Ten years of us together, and it was all unraveling. Numb, I drifted into the study and opened my laptop to email Dr. Marla Hawthorne. I had put off attending Stanford because of a surprise pregnancy, choosing instead to sacrifice my dreams for family. But life had dealt me a harsh blow. Luckily, I’d only deferred my admission a year rather than give up my place entirely. After I sent the email, I booked a flight to the U.S. two weeks from now. Then a video popped up on my screen. Evan, looking tender, lifted a woman into his arms, gently placed her on a bed, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead. The sight felt like a searing hot brand across my face, ripping away a layer of my skin. I wanted to scream at him: Does he put on this act of devotion for any woman he pleases? All this time, I thought I was his one true love, but I was nothing more than one of his many distractions. In the video, their voices mingled intimately. “Who do you truly love?” she asked. With a quiet murmur, he replied, “Only you.” I watched the video on repeat, each time like a dagger twisting deeper into my heart. I sat there until dusk when the low-battery alert shook me awake. I shut the video, forced my numb legs to move, and packed a suitcase. Just as I dragged a box to the door, Evan arrived, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He glanced at the open box and laughed. “You’re finally throwing out these dioramas? I thought you’d cherish them forever.” “Honestly, they just take up space.” These handcrafted dioramas had taken me countless sleepless nights to create, but to him, they were nothing but junk. “Leave them; I’ll have someone toss them out,” he said, holding out a paper bag. “I went all the way to the Uptown District for Sweet Pecan Bread. It’s the last batch; I paid triple for it.” He gripped my wrist, his gaze warm, waiting for me to laugh and fall into his arms like I always did. But that familiar apple-cinnamon scent mingled with the cloying perfume of another woman overwhelmed me with nausea. I pulled my hand free, murmuring, “Get away from me.” His smile faded into irritation, his voice turning cold. “What’s the matter? This is your favorite.” I lifted my head, meeting his questioning eyes with a distant gaze. “I’m sick of it. People’s tastes change.” Just like trust, it’s fleeting. His brow furrowed, anger simmering in his eyes as he snapped, “I’ve already explained—this was just a friend’s joke.” “If you insist on imagining things, that’s on you.”
A laugh slipped out before I could hold it back. Who was he to yell at me? Was he enraged because I’d uncovered the truth? Just standing in the same space made my skin crawl, so I grabbed my keys and walked past his cold, stone face. His barely restrained anger followed me out the door. “You can’t just throw a tantrum whenever you want,” he called out. “Where will you go without me?” The crunch of dry autumn leaves sounded beneath my feet, blurring my vision. My parents had divorced in middle school, each eager to take my brother but indifferent toward me, leaving me adrift. Only Evan’s mother, who’d watched me grow up, secretly supported me. At school, when others mocked and ostracized me, Evan alone stood by my side, fists clenched in defiance, shielding me with fierce loyalty, even if it meant getting beaten up. At eighteen, bruised and sore, he would still flash a silly grin to make me laugh. “Don’t cry. I’ll protect you forever,” he’d promised. Now, at twenty-eight, he stormed toward me, grabbing my arm harshly. “Enough, Sloane. You’re acting like some spiteful woman threatening to leave over nothing.” He’d driven me to the edge and now dared to lecture me as if I were unstable. I almost wanted to tear away his mask, to make him see the wreckage he’d caused. Could he really keep up this righteous act? I reached for my phone to play that damning video, but a new message appeared. The photo showed Evan and that woman under fireworks, locked in a passionate kiss. March 15th. That night, rumors had spread of a mysterious man setting off fireworks to confess his love. I had taken a picture of the night sky, hoping to share the moment with him. In the crowd, I’d been jostled, falling to the ground with a searing pain in my abdomen as blood pooled around me. I’d tried calling Evan, but he never answered. While the doctor’s tools probed coldly into my body, scraping away life piece by piece, what had he been doing with her? The memory stung like venom as numbness settled over me. “Sloane, what’s wrong? You look terrible.” Evan held my shoulders, his eyes full of concern. I calmly pushed him away, then slapped him hard across the face, flinging my phone at him. “You’re disgusting!” I yelled. His eyes shifted from fury to panic as he tried to pull me close. The calm, controlled Evan I knew had vanished. “I can explain, Sloane. Don’t watch that.” His hands trembled as he tried to delete the video but failed repeatedly. “The doctor said you might not be able to get pregnant again.” “I just wanted her to have the baby, then I’d send her abroad. I wouldn’t stay in touch.” “You like kids, don’t you?” Suddenly, the world fell silent, the only sound the fierce thumping of my heart. I’d imagined every possible confrontation, but nothing prepared me for this grotesque explanation. Did he even know what he was saying? I couldn’t help but laugh, dignity cast aside as tears streamed down my face. “It’s over,” I whispered, those words draining the last of my strength.
Evan’s gaze was anguished as he reached for my hand, only to hesitate and clench his fist, striking the wall instead. His voice was rough with desperation. “Sloane, please, the wedding’s close. If it’s canceled, it would break my mom’s heart.” “It’s her greatest wish to see us married.” “Whatever you feel for me, remember what she’s done for you. Please, Sloane.” The usually proud Evan now hunched slightly, his eyes reddened. “Don’t leave me, Sloane.” Memories flooded in, the nights his mother had comforted me. “Sloane, don’t worry, Auntie will stay with you.” “Look at this new dress I got you, and the butterfly clip—isn’t it pretty?” “Anyone who dares hurt Sloane will answer to me. She’s my daughter.” A painful tightness gripped my chest, forcing me to breathe deeply as questions and anger welled up, threatening to burst. I opened my mouth to speak, but Evan’s gaze shifted past me, whispering, “Ella Rae.” I froze, turning to see her—a fragile-looking woman with a hand on her stomach, facing me with teary eyes. “I’m sorry, Sloane,” she murmured. “I just don’t want my baby to be fatherless.” “You, of all people, would understand… after all, you didn’t have…” “Stop!” Evan shouted, panic in his voice. He turned to me, reaching out, but grasped only air. How absurd. He knew how deeply that hurt, and yet he’d casually recounted it to another woman, turning my scars into idle conversation. Ella Rae approached me, apologetic but whispered with venom, “Unwanted orphan.” I knew her game—she wanted to drive a wedge between me and Evan. So, I gave her what she wanted. Raising my hand, I aimed to slap her, but Evan seized my wrist. I pulled my other arm free and slapped her across the face with everything I had. Her cheek instantly reddened. Furious, Evan pushed me away. “Sloane, when did you become so heartless?” “She’s pregnant!” I lifted my chin and met his glare, coldly replying, “I just realized how vile and hypocritical you are.” Dusting myself off, I walked past Evan, his face pale, and left without a second glance. Behind me, I heard Ella Rae’s faltering steps and her weak call, “Evan, please don’t leave. I’m worried about the baby.”
The sound of her voice faded behind me, and my racing thoughts finally slowed. Dr. Hawthorne had once warned me not to sacrifice my future for any man. But back then, I was young, naive enough to believe love alone would be enough. “Evan isn’t like the others,” I’d declared, head held high. Years later, that statement felt like a dagger through my heart. Now, all I wanted was to see Dr. Hawthorne one last time. She’d been a mother to me when I needed it most, guiding me through college with care. Her hair had grayed over the years. When we sat down, she simply smiled, resting a frail hand on mine. “I always knew you’d come back to finish your doctorate, Sloane,” she said, beaming. “Your talent deserves this journey.” She handed me her architectural sketches, the work of her lifetime. “Take these with you. May you find happiness in your next steps.” As I closed her door, I glimpsed her wiping a tear away, and I knew I wouldn’t let her down again. I thought each day ahead would bring a fresh start. But then Ella Rae blocked my path, a smirk on her face. “Going somewhere, Sloane? Without saying goodbye?” I tried to walk around her, but she seized my suitcase and flung it down the stairs. Sketches scattered and stained on impact. My mind went blank as I scrambled to gather them, only for her heel to grind into my hand, making me wince in pain. Suddenly, several men surrounded me, holding me down, forcing me to kneel at her feet. “Are you insane?” I yelled, fury and humiliation burning inside me. She casually inspected her nails. “Just feeling bored, looking for some fun.” Snatching a few sketches, she sneered, “You treat these like treasures. Maybe I’ll burn them.” A wave of anger surged through me, and I snarled, “Don’t you dare!” With a cruel smile, she signaled for a man to bring her a lighter. The flame flickered menacingly close to my face. “Beg me, and maybe I’ll reconsider.” Clenching my fists, nails digging into my palms, I gritted out, “Please, they mean everything to me.”
A flash of excitement lit up in Ella Rae’s eyes as she struck a match and set Dr. Hawthorne’s carefully crafted sketches ablaze. I watched in horror as her life’s work, her precious architectural drawings, shriveled and blackened in the fire. It felt like someone had ripped out my heart and ground it beneath their heel. Ella Rae squatted beside me, gripping my chin so hard it hurt. “What gives you the right to compete with me, you worthless stray?” Then—slap! Her hand connected sharply with my face, leaving a stinging echo. “That one’s for good measure.” “Strip her down,” she ordered the men around her with a cruel smile. “Let’s see how she flaunts herself at Evan after this.” Fear shot through me as one of the men’s faces twisted into a smug leer. I struggled, but my strength was no match against their brute force. The sound of tearing fabric made me shudder in shame, bringing an overwhelming wave of despair as tears blurred my vision. The commotion attracted a small crowd, and Ella Rae clutched her stomach, adopting a tearful voice. “I’m pregnant, and she’s trying to steal my husband.” Judging, disgusted eyes turned on me, scorching me with their scorn. “Shameless homewrecker, someone ought to teach her a lesson.” “Nothing I hate more than a mistress. They should be dragged through the streets!” “Film it, post it online. Let the world see her for what she is.” I curled up on the ground, trembling, whispering, “I’m not the other woman.” But my denial was drowned out by their laughter, sharp and relentless, stabbing at my dignity. At that moment, I found myself absurdly wishing Evan from our youth would miraculously rescue me. Ella Rae yanked my hair, her gaze smug and mocking as she leaned in to hiss in my ear, “Evan said you were like a stray dog he picked up off the street. Nothing more than a little entertainment. Did you really take it seriously?” Those words echoed like a thunderclap. The pressure holding me down abruptly eased, and with a surge of fury, I shoved Ella Rae away. Then I heard Evan’s familiar voice, full of anger, behind me. “Sloane, what do you think you’re doing?” He rushed over, pulling Ella Rae protectively into his arms, looking at me with bitter disappointment. “Is this what it takes to satisfy you? Hurting an innocent woman and her unborn child?” Several police officers arrived, asking what had caused the disturbance. Angry onlookers eagerly explained, “She’s not only a homewrecker but also deliberately shoved a pregnant woman!” The officer turned to Evan. “What’s the relationship between the three of you?” Ella Rae clung to him, wincing in pain, her voice filled with despair, “Evan, I’m so scared. What if something happens to our baby?” Evan cradled her, casting me a look of utter contempt as he coldly said to the officer, “I don’t know her.”
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