Chapter 3

Aaliyah's POV

The rain battered the windows of my apartment, a shoebox compared to the penthouse I’d shared with Henry. I sat cross-legged on the couch, my laptop open to a spreadsheet that screamed failure.

My boutique PR firm, once a rising star, was bleeding clients. The divorce had gutted me and now, I was losing focus, losing motivation, losing my damn mind!

And the industry whispers didn’t help—'Aaliyah Monroe, dumped by Henry Smith for her twin sister.'

My business was crumbling faster than my heart.

I rubbed my temples, the ache in my head matching the one in my chest.

It had been three weeks since I signed those papers, since Aurora’s smirk burned into my memory.

I’d moved out the next day, stuffing my life into suitcases and leaving behind the home Henry and I had built. Or so I thought we had.

Now, I was drowning in bills, my confidence shot, and my mind a mess. I couldn’t sleep without seeing Henry’s cold green eyes or hearing Aurora’s cruel laugh.

“Not again!” I heard Lisa yell from the door as she struggled getting in. Her voice jolts me awake from my thoughts.

Lisa, my best friend, had been a lifeline, showing up with takeout everyday, making sure I don’t lose myself completely.

She came in with packages in hand, mumbling about how I should keep my shoes off the doorway so as not to send her flying to the ground next time.

She sprawled on my couch with me, her dark curls bouncing as she started to rant.

“I can't believe you're going to let those two bastards get their way with you! What happened to the feisty Aaliyah I knew? Where is she? Who are you?”

I smiled, not affording the strength to laugh out.

“It's been three weeks Lisa, you keep saying the same thing everyday.”

“Because it hurts. Oh they better thank their lucky stars you told me about this late if not—” and on she went.

I appreciated her alot. But even her energy couldn’t fix the chaos in my head.

Last night, she’d dragged me to a diner, shoving a burger in front of me. “Eat, Aaliyah. You’re scaring me. You’re all bones and shadows.”

I tried, but I couldn't taste the food, couldn't savoir it. My world felt like it was collapsing, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

I glanced at the TV, muted but flickering in the corner. Lisa’s voice was fading in as I had returned to reality again.

I picked up the remote and raised the volume, something aside from Lisa’s voice, to drown out the silence that let my thoughts scream.

But then, as if even the heavens were against my peace, Henry’s face filled the screen, and my stomach twisted.

I grabbed the remote again, meaning to shut it off, but my thumb froze. It was a live interview, some business channel gushing about Smith Enterprises’ latest triumph.

Henry stood on a stage, his dark brown hair perfect, his smile dazzling. He looked like the man I’d loved, but he wasn’t mine anymore.

The host, a perky brunette, leaned forward. “Mr. Smith, your company’s stock is soaring. What’s driving this success?”

Henry’s voice, smooth and confident, poured through the speakers.

“Vision, hard work, and the right partner by my side. My lovely wife.”

My heart stuttered as he turned, extending a hand. Aurora glided onto the stage, her blonde hair sleek, her blue eyes gleaming with victory.

She wore a crimson dress that hugged her curves, and when Henry kissed her cheek, the crowd cheered.

The room spun. Wife. They're married. So soon. The divorce ink wasn’t even dry, and he’d replaced me like I was nothing.

Aurora’s arm looped through his, her smile a knife in my gut. She leaned into him, whispering something that made him laugh, and I couldn’t take it. Rage surged, hot and blinding.

Lisa reached for the remote immediately, but I was faster, grabbing a chipped coffee mug and hurling it at the TV.

The screen cracked, Henry’s face splintering into static. I sank to the floor, sobbing, my hands shaking as I clutched my knees.

“How could he?” I choked out. “How could he marry her?”

Lisa knelt beside me, pulling me into a fierce hug. “He’s a fool, Aaliyah. And she’s a viper. Who the hell steals her own sister's husband? It's crazy and –feels personal. Whatever, don't cry over those dickheads, you're better than this.”

I don’t know how long I stayed there, in Lisa’s arms neither do I know how long she spoke for before I drifted into sleep.

The next morning, I dragged myself to the office. My assistant, Tara, gave me a worried look as I shuffled in, my hair a messy bun, my eyes puffy.

“Aaliyah, you okay? You look—”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, then softened. “Sorry. Just… rough night.”

She nodded, but her frown said she didn’t believe me.

I sank into my chair, staring at emails from clients pulling out. One cited “instability” in my leadership. Instability. That’s what I’d become. How ironic.

By noon, I felt sick, my stomach churning, my head spinning. I assumed it was all due to stress, but when I couldn’t keep down a sip of coffee, I knew something was wrong.

“You should definitely see a doctor. Something ain't right”, Tara churned it as she watched me from her seat.

I didn't comply at first but she kept insisting I see a doctor, practically shoving me out the door.

“Go, Aaliyah. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

The clinic was sterile, the fluorescent lights buzzing as I sat on a bench, waiting for the doctor.

I’d expected a lecture about stress or maybe a prescription for anxiety. Or maybe even a direction to the psychiatric ward, I could actually be running mad for all I know.

But instead, Dr. Pat, a kind-eyed woman with a gentle voice, came back with a chart and a smile.

“Ms. Monroe, your symptoms—nausea, fatigue—they’re not just stress. You’re pregnant. About four weeks along.”

The room tilted.

“Pregnant?” My voice was a whisper. I gripped the edge of the exam table, my knuckles white. Four weeks. That meant… Henry.

The night before his birthday, the day everything fell apart, he had come home late and drunk. He hardly ever laid his hands on me those days talk more of make love to me so when I saw him in that state, I took advantage of it. But now, it left me with this.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my mind racing. Dr. Pat nodded, handing me a pamphlet on prenatal care.

“We can do an ultrasound to confirm, but the tests are clear. Congratulations.”

Congratulations? No, this was nothing to celebrate.

I left the clinic in a daze, the pamphlet crumpled in my fist.

Just when I thought nothing worse could happen, turns out I'm pregnant for my ex husband.

The man who’d shattered my heart, now tied to me forever through this. I stumbled onto the subway, the world blurring around me.

I couldn’t tell him. Not now, not ever. This was mine—my secret, my burden.