Chapter 4

She was wiped, but her hand stayed locked around mine.

Any time I tried to pull away, even a little, her grip tightened.

By the end, she bought two matching string bracelets and tied them around our wrists herself.

"That way, you won't leave me."

I didn't say a word.

She pulled my hand over anyway, pressed it to her stomach.

"Glen, I'm pregnant. With your baby. From now on, our family has one more person who loves you."

She looked so gentle saying it.

My chest burned, anger climbing fast. 'You keep saying you love me. You still cheated. And now you want me to raise another man's kid?'

What did I do to earn this kind of punishment?

I stayed silent, face dark. Vanessa's smile slowly slipped. Then she signed the same words again.

Right. She still thought I couldn't hear.

I looked at her, flat and cold, and spoke. "Are you sure the baby's mine, and not someone else's?"

Panic flashed across her face. Just for a second. Then the smile snapped back into place.

"Of course it's yours—"

Her phone rang and saved her.

She stepped away. It took less than a minute. When she came back, her face was already set to apologetic.

"I'm sorry. Something came up at the company. I need to take care of it. I'll make it up to you next time."

Phone still in hand, she hurried off.

As she turned away, I caught the name glowing on her screen.

Eugene.

I stood up, slid the string bracelet off my wrist, and dropped it into the trash. Calm. Clean.

You care that much about Eugene? Fine. I'll clear the space.

From now on, the three of you can have each other.

***

Over the next few days, Vanessa didn't show up at all.

She drifted in once or twice, looking wrecked, stress carved between her brows.

Moved like a ghost. Like I might suddenly notice her.

I didn't ask.

I played the part—perfectly deaf, perfectly clueless.

Eugene's social feed, though? Loud as hell.

One post was a limited-edition sports car.

Next was a home-cooked meal—Vanessa's handiwork, proudly plated.

Every update screamed 'she's obsessed with me.'

And their mutuals ate it up, flooding the comments with jokes and congrats.

Me?

I stayed home.

Deleting every last trace of us.

Day one—Eugene posted Vanessa watching fireworks with him at some amusement park.

I pulled every photo of me and Vanessa off the walls. Ripped them up. Burned them to ash.

Day two—Eugene showed off a sea of flowers Vanessa had arranged just for him.

I hired workers and had the greenhouse she built for me demolished. Gone. No hesitation.

Last day—Eugene posted himself with his ear pressed to Vanessa's stomach. Real classy.

I finished packing and was about to walk out when the door opened.

Vanessa stood there after being gone forever.

Eyes bloodshot. Face tight. A document crushed in her hand.

"Glen," she said, "this says you applied for a volunteer teaching program in Northvale. Is that true?"