EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET (It's Too Late To Apologise)

The knife felt cold in my hand as I pressed it against the frosted cake. My fingers trembled—not from nerves, but from pure excitement. Pink or blue. Girl or boy. After everything I'd been through, this moment felt like proof that life could still surprise me with something beautiful.

"Ready?" Damien's voice came from beside me, smooth and warm. His hand covered mine on the knife, steady and sure. My husband. My partner. My whole world.

"Ready." I smiled up at him, and God, I wanted to freeze this moment forever.

We cut together. The cake split open. Blue confetti exploded outward in a shower of ribbons and glitter that caught the fairy lights like falling stars.

Blue.

The room erupted in cheers, but my smile locked in place. My heart pounded so hard I felt it in my throat. Blue? But the ultrasound showed—no, wait, the technician said—

"Oh my God." I laughed, but it sounded wrong even to my ears. "There must be a mistake. The bakery got it wrong."

I pulled my phone from my dress pocket, my fingers clumsy as I scrolled for the number. Around me, guests murmured. I caught Damien's mother pursing her lips in that way that always made me feel like I wasn't quite good enough.

"Actually," a voice cut through the confusion, "the gender reveal is accurate."

My head snapped up. Sienna stood at the edge of the crowd—my best friend since sophomore year of college, my maid of honor, my sister in everything but blood.

She was smiling. But it wasn't the smile I knew. This one had edges.

"The baby's just not yours, Elena." She walked toward us, each step deliberate and slow. Her red dress hugged curves that seemed fuller than I remembered. "It's mine."

The phone slipped from my hand. Somewhere behind me, glass shattered.

Sienna stopped directly in front of Damien. She placed her hand on his chest—possessive, familiar, intimate. "Congratulations, Damien. It's a boy. Our boy."

Time stopped. I stood frozen, watching my husband's hand come up to cup her face. He didn't look at me. Didn't hesitate. Didn't even flinch.

He kissed her.

Right there. In front of everyone. In front of me.

The room spun. My vision blurred at the edges. My pregnant belly suddenly felt too heavy, too vulnerable, too exposed. The cake, the blue confetti, the fairy lights—everything was mocking me.

"Damien." My voice cracked. I hated how small I sounded. "What is this?"

He finally looked at me. His eyes were cold. Empty. Like I was a stranger. "It's exactly what it looks like."

Around us, guests shuffled toward the door. Damien's mother grabbed her purse with a sharp breath. Within minutes, they'd all scattered like roaches when the lights came on, leaving only the three of us standing among the confetti and abandoned champagne.

My hands curled into fists. "Get out."

"Elena—"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Damien laughed. He actually laughed. "Your house?"

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded document. Tossed it onto the table beside the ruined cake. "Check the deed, darling. You signed it over three months ago. For tax purposes, remember? You trusted me."

My knees buckled. I caught myself on the table, blue confetti sticking to my palms. "No. I didn't—I wouldn't—"

"But you did." Sienna's voice dripped with satisfaction. "You signed everything he put in front of you. So trusting. So stupid."

Something broke inside me. I lunged forward, but my body was too slow, too pregnant, too heavy. Damien caught my wrist. His grip tightened until pain shot up my arm.

"Don't make this uglier than it needs to be." His fingers dug into my skin. "Take whatever you can carry and leave. Tonight."

"Leave?" I wrenched my arm free. "I'm pregnant with your child!"

"Are you?" Sienna tilted her head like she was genuinely curious. "Because Damien and I have been together for over a year. Maybe you should ask yourself who the father really is."

"I've never—" My breath came in gasps. "I would never—"

"I'll only move in if she's gone." Sienna turned to Damien, her voice shifting to something soft and pleading. "You promised me, baby. You said once the party was over, she'd leave."

Baby. She called him baby.

Damien's jaw tightened. He looked at me like I was a problem to solve. A stain to remove. "Go pack."

"No." I backed toward the stairs. "I'm not going anywhere. You want to be with her? Fine. But I'm taking everything. The house, the money, and I'm dragging you to court for—"

"For what?" Damien followed me, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood. "For falling out of love with you?"

"For killing my babies."

The words hung in the air. Sienna's smirk faltered.

Damien stopped. "What did you say?"

"The miscarriages." My voice shook but I pushed through. "They weren't accidents, were they? The doctors said complications, but you—you did something."

"You're insane."

"Am I?" My hand moved to my belly, protective. "Because I've been thinking about it. How both times, you were the one who scheduled the appointments. How you were always in the room with the doctors. How you—"

"I wanted a son, Elena." He said it so calmly. So matter-of-factly. "Is that so wrong? Those girls... they were mistakes."

The floor tilted beneath me. I grabbed the stair railing, bile rising in my throat. "You... you killed them?"

"I asked the doctors to terminate. Both times." He shrugged like we were discussing dinner plans. "You were so devastated by the 'miscarriages,' you never questioned it."

My hand flew to my stomach. "This baby—"

"Survived because I've been traveling." Another shrug. "I didn't even know you were pregnant until last month. Lucky for you."

"Lucky?" My laugh sounded hysterical. "You're a monster."

"And you're standing in my house." He climbed the first stair. "Now pack your things, or I'll have security remove you."

"I'm calling the police." I looked around for my phone—no, I'd dropped it. "I'm telling them everything. What you did, the fraud, all of it. You'll rot in prison."

Damien's expression darkened. He took another step up.

"Damien." Sienna's warning came too late.

"You're not calling anyone." He moved fast.

I turned to run up the stairs, but my foot caught on my dress. I stumbled. His hand connected with my shoulder—hard, deliberate.

I was falling.

The stairs rushed up to meet me. Each impact stole my breath. Pain exploded through my back, my hip, my stomach. I tried to scream but there was no air.

When I finally stopped at the bottom, everything was tilted. Warm liquid pooled beneath me. Blood. Too much blood.

"Help." The word barely came out. "Please. The baby—"

Above me, Damien and Sienna stood on the landing. They didn't move. Didn't call for help.

They just watched.

I tried to lift my hand to my belly, but my body wouldn't obey. My vision darkened at the edges.

The baby. Not again. Please, God, not again.

Everything went black.

My vision dimmed, the baby... no, not again—