Broken Cliches

Kiki

—-

The words echoed like a bad TV rerun I’d seen a thousand times before.

“Don’t you remember? The night we returned, in the forest, when everyone was celebrating? You were drunk and came into my tent. We slept together, and you marked me.”

Then she showed it… the mark. That stupid, glowing bite on her neck.

My husband’s mark. To think I didn’t even have his mark… yet another woman now does… this~~ all this is fucking shitty.

For a second, I thought maybe I’d stepped into one of those ridiculous W******l stories where the heroine catches her man with his “fated” lover. The kind where the next line is something painfully predictable like “You’re just a chosen mate, she’s my destiny.”

I stared at her, then at him, waiting for someone to shout Cut! so I could wake up. But no. This was my life. My tragedy written by some lazy goddess who apparently loved clichés.

I let out a dry laugh, the kind that hurts more than it heals. “Wow. Drunk, huh? That’s convenient.”

Dan didn’t say a word. His face was pale, guilty, pathetic.

Then Rita grabbed my leg and cried, “Luna Kiki, please! I don’t care about status. I’ll be your servant, wash your clothes, clean your toilet, anything! Just… please don’t drive me away. Don’t let me lose my baby!”

Her voice cracked like cheap glass. The perfect helpless act. The kind that makes men forget they have wives.

I laughed again, bitter and sharp. “Servant? You already took my husband, my home, my title. What’s left for you to scrub?”

Dan flinched, but didn’t move. Of course he didn’t.

He wanted an heir. He’d always wanted an heir.

And she his precious mate was now carrying one. The true heir. The one my unborn twins would never be, because they came from love, not destiny.

I looked at her swollen eye, then at his trembling hands. Something inside me cracked.

“Congratulations,” I whispered. “The Moon Goddess must be having a field day.” This was all I can utter… I refuse to break down in front of them, I won’t let them bother me have the pleasure of seeing me weak.

Then she screamed.

Loud, piercing, dramatic like the script demanded it. The first thing that came to my mind was what now.

Her hands clutched her stomach. Dan jumped to his feet, panic flashing in his eyes.

“Rita!”

He shoved past me so fast I barely saw him move.

I stumbled back, his shoulder knocking into mine like I was nothing but air.

My body hit the cold hospital floor. Pain shot through me, sharp and brutal, straight to my belly.

The room blurred. I heard voices Dan shouting, nurses running, Rita sobbing something about her baby.

I wanted to scream, but nothing came out.

All I could think was—

Of course.

Of course it ends like this.

The betrayed wife collapsing while the cheating husband saves his crying mate. The unborn children forgotten. The “fated” love center stage.

A perfect cliché.

My last thought before darkness swallowed me whole was bitter and clear.

If the Moon Goddess is writing my story, I swear, I’m taking the pen back.

——

The world came back in pieces.

White ceiling. Sterile air. The steady beeping of a monitor that sounded too calm for what I felt inside.

And then Tia.

Sitting beside my bed, eyes swollen, holding my hand like it was the last thread keeping me here.

When I tried to speak, my throat burned. “What… happened?”

She didn’t answer right away. She just stared at me, and that silence told me everything I didn’t want to know.

My chest tightened. I forced the words out. “The babies…?”

Tia’s lips trembled. Her eyes filled up before she even spoke.

She shook her head.

That tiny motion broke something in me.

For a long time, I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t.

My hands moved on their own, pressing against my stomach empty now, flat and foreign.

And then it hit me all at once the ache, the loss, the sound of my own voice as it cracked open.

The scream that left me wasn’t loud. It was soft. Too soft. Like the world didn’t deserve to hear my pain.

Tia’s arms wrapped around me, and I sobbed into her shoulder. The kind of crying that doesn’t look dramatic just ugly and raw. The kind that comes from somewhere you can’t fix.

“He didn’t come,” she whispered. “Dan didn’t come, Kiki.”

I froze.

“What?” My voice was hollow.

“He stayed with her,” she said softly. “He hasn’t left Rita’s side since last night you… since you lost them.”

A small, bitter laugh slipped out of me. “Of course he didn’t.”

The sound was sharp, cold even I didn’t recognize it.

“He always wanted an heir,” I whispered. “And now his precious mate is giving him one. Why would he come to the woman who failed him?”

Tia tried to speak, but I cut her off. “Tell me something, Tia.” My voice shook, my hands trembling as I wiped my face. “Is love really nothing compared to a damn spark? To some goddess-approved mate bond?”

She looked down. No answer. Just silence.

I laughed again, bitter and hollow. “I gave him everything. My love, my loyalty, my body, my soul. But all it takes is one glowing mark and a baby, and suddenly I’m the extra in my own life.”

Tia squeezed my hand. “You didn’t fail, Kiki. You loved him. He’s the one who failed you.”

I turned my face away. I didn’t want comfort. I wanted answers. I wanted the goddess herself to come down and tell me why she hated me so much.

“I hate her,” I whispered, staring at the wall. “The Moon Goddess. She plays with people like we’re her favorite drama series. She writes pain, edits tears, and calls it destiny.”

Tia’s eyes softened. “Then maybe it’s time you stop letting her hold the pen.”

Her words sat heavy in the air.

And for the first time since the darkness swallowed me, something flickered inside my chest not hope exactly, but something close.

I wiped the tears off my face and forced a shaky breath. “I’m done being her tragedy, Tia. If she wants a story, fine. But I’ll write it my way.”

I looked down at my empty hands, my trembling fingers. “No more crying over a man who chose sparks over love.”

Tia smiled weakly. “That’s my girl.”

But as she stood and left to get the nurse, I lay back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling again.

The pain didn’t go away. It wouldn’t for a long time. But beneath it all, there was something new anger, quiet and alive.

And maybe that was enough to start with.