7.

I felt completely out of place beside Kira. She looked like she’d stepped straight out of a magazine shoot, full glam, hair smooth and shiny, the new dress Vincent had gifted her fitting her like it had been sewn onto her body.

Meanwhile, I looked like someone they’d dragged in from the parking lot. My hair frizzed the moment I stepped inside, and the simple dress I’d worn suddenly felt childish.

People didn’t even bother lowering their voices.

“Are we sure they’re related? She looks worse than the help.”

“That’s the girl from the cheating scandal, right?”

My face burned. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but shame didn’t care. Shame always found me first. Kira went up on the small platform they’d set for her, holding her bouquet like she was receiving an award. Then she paused, lifting a piece of fabric soft pink that looked like part of another dress.

Her mouth wobbled. She didn’t cry yet, but she knew just how far to push it.

“This was supposed to be my second outfit,” she said, looking at Dad, at the crowd, then at me. “I don’t know how the stains got on it. Aria… maybe your perfume spilled?”

My head snapped up. “I didn’t go anywhere near your room.”

Adrian stepped up beside her, his expression sharp. “Why would you bring anything into Kira’s things? You knew today was important.”

“I didn’t,” I said. “I wasn’t there.”

Kira put a gentle hand on his arm, like she was calming him down. She even gave me a soft smile, the kind that made everyone else see her as an angel.

“It’s fine, Aria. I know things have been difficult for you lately. Mistakes happen.”

Her words defended me, but her eyes were bright with triumph.

The guests whispered louder now. Vincent stood behind her like her shadow, staring at me with disappointment, and that hurt more than anything.

Adrian stepped closer. “If you didn’t touch the dress, then how did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” I said, voice flat, exhausted. “But the hallway cameras could tell you exactly where I’d been.”

Kira stiffened. Just barely. But I saw it.

She smiled again, softer. “No, Adrian. Let’s not start digging through footage on my birthday. The dress isn’t worth all that.”

And that was enough for the crowd. Their attention shifted like nothing happened. Music started up again. Laughter resumed. The whole scene was brushed aside like a spill on a table.

Vincent leaned in just enough for me to hear.

“You shouldn’t have shown up when you were already causing trouble.”

My chest tightened. He used to defend me. Now even he looked at me like I’d crashed the party for fun. I stayed by the wall while Kira moved from person to person, hugging, posing for pictures, accepting gifts.

Everyone adored her. The lights made her sparkle.

When Adrian went up to give his little speech, my stomach dropped before he even spoke.

“Kira has been the steady part of my life,” he said, eyes locked on her. “She’s seen me through more than anyone knows. She’s been my anchor.”

My nails dug into my palm. Then he got on one knee. People screamed.

Kira covered her mouth like she hadn’t been expecting it. She kept her eyes on me as she nodded, smiling like she’d won a game I never signed up to play. Adrian put the ring on her. Cameras flashed. Music swelled. Everyone gathered around them. I stood alone in the corner, invisible.

No one asked why he was proposing to someone else while still legally married to me. No one cared.

I walked home numb. I cried in the dark of my old bedroom until my chest physically ached. By morning I felt like a ghost. No sleep. No food. Just a hollow weight inside me.

I forced myself toward the clinic because the pains in my head and chest wouldn’t stop. The sunlight hurt my eyes. My feet dragged. I was right in front of the hospital when a horn blared. I turned too late.

A car grazed me sharp enough that my knees buckled. I stumbled, and the ground rushed up. A hand grabbed me just as I hit the pavement.

“Fuck! Are you serious?” a deep voice said, breath warm against my cheek.

I blinked up through tears and dizziness.

The man from the curb. Same rough voice. Same steady grip, masculine cologne.

“You again,” he muttered, looking me over like he was checking for damage. “You look worse than last time.”

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

“A second more and you’d be paste under my tyres. “Do you just jump in front of cars for fun now?”

“I said I’m fine.”

I pushed away before he could press further and limped toward the entrance. I didn’t look back, though I felt his eyes on me.

Inside, I sat in the hard plastic chair until the doctor finally returned.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t look worried either. He just set the file on the table.

“You’re pregnant.”

The room tilted. Then steadied. Then something warm bloomed in my chest hope, pure and unfiltered. I stared at him like the words were floating. Then something warm swelled inside me. A quiet, sharp, hopeful again.

Pregnant. After all these years. I thought about that night, about the man who forced himself on me, but I shoved the thought far, far away. It couldn’t be that. One time couldn’t erase the years of no pregnancy.

This had to be Adrian’s. And… maybe this meant something would change.

Maybe he’d look at me again. Maybe he’d want me again. Maybe he’d finally love me.