Chapter 2

After packing up my things, I had no choice but to go back to my mother's place. But when I pushed open the door to my old bedroom, I found a crib and baby toys taking up most of the space. Even the wallpaper had been changed to pink.

Just then, Mom came out of the kitchen. She wiped her hands on a towel and said, "Harper's due soon. We had to get a room ready for the baby."

I looked at the few cardboard boxes shoved into the hall closet. They were all that remained of me in this house.

"Where am I supposed to stay when I come back?" I asked softly.

Mom frowned, clearly displeased. "You have Jeffrey and that huge house of yours. Why are you fighting Harper for this little room?"

Suddenly, a coldness crept into me, so deep it seemed to seep into my bones. As it turned out, they weren't asking me to step aside for a while. They had already planned to cut me out of their lives.

Later, I dug out my old phone and called my high school classmate, Clifford Nash.

"Will you come get me on my wedding day?" I asked him.

There was a long silence on the other end. Without asking why, Clifford replied, "Okay. Send me the address. I'll come get you."

After hanging up, I texted the hotel manager. The message read, "Please keep the smaller room next to the ballroom reserved. And make sure no one goes in before 12:20 pm."

…

Five days before my wedding, Mom called.

"Harper cried all night. She's worried you got the wrong idea. Come over and clear things up with her in person. She's bleeding and can't handle stress right now, so watch your attitude."

I did my makeup, then deliberately chose a bright red trench coat before heading out. I wanted to see who Jeffrey would choose when it came down to it.

…

Clifford drove me to the hospital. When he pulled up at the entrance, he kept the engine running. "If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm coming up."

…

The door to Harper's hospital room was slightly ajar. I spotted Jeffrey sitting beside her bed, peeling an apple for her.

At that moment, a nurse walked in with a clipboard.

"Who's here with the patient? I need someone to sign this."

"I'm the baby's father."

Jeffrey immediately took the pen and signed.

Back then, whenever my stomach hurt so badly that I broke out in a cold sweat, I'd ask him to peel an apple for me.

Yet, he'd always get annoyed and snap, "I'm not your maid. If you want fruit, order some yourself."

And now, Jeffrey was carefully peeling the apple, the skin coming away in one long, unbroken spiral.

Moments later, Mom came back carrying a thermos of hot water. When she saw me, she walked right past without a word.

Instead, she went straight to Harper's bedside and tucked the blanket around her. "Oh, sweetheart. You've been so sick these past few days. Just look at you. You've gotten so thin."

She fussed over Harper like she was her own daughter, barely sparing me a glance.

Harper propped herself up, pulled a stack of prenatal records from beneath her pillow, and handed them to me.

"Barbara, I never wanted to come between you two," she said. "But my baby needs a father. Please… Just let me have the baby."

I opened the first report. The date on it was the very day Jeffrey and I announced our plans to get married.

The ultrasound report stated that Harper was eight weeks pregnant.

Tucked inside the folder was a photograph. I recognized the man beside Harper immediately. He was her college sweetheart, Eric Miller.

But Jeffrey had told me they'd slept together a month before we announced our plans to get married. So, how could Harper already be eight weeks pregnant?

I slapped the report against Jeffrey's leg and asked, "Are you sure something actually happened between you two that night?"

Jeffrey glanced at the report, clearly not understanding it, and blurted, "You're really going to start this now? I was blackout drunk that night. When I woke up, she was already beside me.

"I know I messed up, and I'll take responsibility for it. I'm not going to let Harper take all the blame."

I pressed on, "What about three months ago, when I was trying on my wedding dress? You didn't answer my calls then, either. Were you blackout drunk that day too?"

"The results from her checkup that day weren't good. The doctor was worried she might miscarry. She was alone at the hospital, crying. I couldn't just leave her there."

Jeffrey held my gaze as he spoke, and I knew he meant it.

Out of nowhere, Harper pressed a hand to her stomach. "Jeffrey, my stomach hurts."

Jeffrey immediately tossed the paring knife aside and pulled her into his arms.

Clinging to him, Harper pleaded, "Barbara, please don't pressure him. It was all my fault. I'm the one who got pregnant."

"Barbara Weber! Stop it!"

It was the first time Jeffrey had ever yelled at me.

He went on, "She's having a difficult pregnancy. If you're angry, take it out on me. Harper hasn't done anything to you. I think it'd be better if you just stay away for the next few days."

Watching them together made my stomach turn.

I said nothing more, slipped the prenatal records and photograph into my bag, and walked out.