3

[Olivia Jude Velcro]

I returned home alone.

The car ride after lunch with Elara and Sahl felt endless, every mile stretching the silence further. I kept expecting Carter to appear later that night—to walk through the door, to speak, to explain, to fight. Something. Anything.

But the house remained painfully quiet.

Lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling as shadows crept across it, I finally understood the truth I had been refusing to face.

Carter Velcro didn’t care.

He had a family already. A complete one.

And I wasn’t part of it.

The realization hollowed me out. I felt betrayed—robbed of my best years. I had given him everything: my loyalty, my love, my time. I had balanced my life as his wife with my demanding career as a doctor, striving to be flawless in both roles. Never—not once—had I imagined he would betray me so completely.

Lost in the wreckage of my thoughts, replaying every moment of my marriage like a cruel loop, I fell asleep.

The next morning, my phone shattered the silence with its harsh ringtone.

It was the weekend.

No hospital calls were expected.

My eyes burned as sunlight forced its way through the curtains. I turned instinctively to the other side of the bed.

Empty.

Carter hadn’t come home. He didn’t even bother to come home to explain anything. He didn’t even care how hurt I would have been.

My chest tightened, but I swallowed the pain and answered the call.

“Homer?” My voice was hoarse. “Is everything alright? You’re calling on the weekend.”

I already knew it was serious. Doctor Homer—my obstetrician—never called unless it was urgent.

“Olivia,” he said gently, “listen to me carefully. Please sit down first. And don’t panic.”

Panic bloomed instantly in my stomach.

Was something wrong with the baby?

“I’ve reviewed your case thoroughly,” he continued after a pause that felt endless. “And it pains me to say this… but continuing the pregnancy could be dangerous for you in the coming months.”

The words detonated inside my head.

“Olivia?” he called again. “Are you still there?”

I barely heard him. No, no. It couldn’t be true.

My entire married life flashed before my eyes—Carter’s indifference, Camilla’s presence, Candice’s smile, Elara and Sahl’s silence. The betrayal layered upon betrayal until it crushed the air from my lungs.

Something in me snapped.

“Prepare for the abortion tomorrow,” I said suddenly, my voice frighteningly calm. “I don’t want anything tying me to Carter anymore.”

It took every ounce of strength I had to say it. Looking down on my stomach I bit my lower lip to contain my grief.

Tears streamed down my face. “First Carter leaves me… and now this child wants to leave me too. So be it.”

I ended the call and collapsed back onto the bed.

For the last time, I placed my hand on my stomach, memorizing the fragile warmth beneath my palm. For one fleeting moment, I let myself feel like a mother.

The rest of the day blurred into misery before I could even realise. I ignored my phone as Homer called repeatedly, concern etched into every unanswered ring.

The next morning, I sat in his hospital, sterile walls closing in on me as I waited for the senior doctor. Homer returned with sandwiches, his expression cautious and kind.

“Are you alright, Olivia?” he asked softly.

Before I could answer, a sharp voice cut through the corridor.

“Oh goodness,” Camilla scoffed, approaching us. “You’re still on duty after nearly poisoning my daughter?”

I stared at her, stunned. Partially annoyed. 

“Thank God Doctor Briana is treating Candice now,” she continued smugly. “Not some clumsy rookie.”

Doctor Briana.

My mentor. A legend in the medical field. A woman who hadn’t taken regular cases in years—only emergencies.

Candice hadn’t looked anywhere near critical.

Camilla leaned closer, lowering her voice just enough to sting. “Carter wanted the best for his daughter. That’s why he made sure Briana came.”

The words cut deep.

Homer stood abruptly, his voice firm. “That’s enough, Mrs. Velcro. Good luck with your daughter’s treatment. If you’ll excuse us.”

He knew who she was. I shared everything with him.

I said nothing.

I didn’t have the strength to fight—not with my world already crumbling and an abortion looming ahead.

I sat there, numb, realizing that even here—in a place meant to heal—Carter’s other life had found a way to remind me how easily I had been replaced.

Camilla’s lips pressed into a thin, impatient line—but she didn’t move.

“Just a moment, Doctor Homer,” she said coolly. “What’s the hurry?”

Before anyone could stop her, she stepped closer. Too close.

She leaned into my space, her face inches from mine, her smile sharp and poisonous. There was no mistaking the malice burning in her eyes.

“Do you know why Carter married you, Olivia?” she whispered.

My breath caught. She knew? 

“He never loved you,” she continued softly, cruelly. “Not for a single day. That marriage? It wasn’t for you at all.” Her lips curved in satisfaction. “It was for me.”

The world tilted. I couldn’t breathe anymore with the secret unfolding.

I stared at her, eyes wide, disbelief freezing me in place.

“Carter needed to marry you to keep his parents satisfied,” she went on, savoring every word. “Meanwhile, I needed protection—without his horrible mother forcing me to abort my baby.” Her voice hardened. “So he chose. And he chose me.”

Each sentence struck like a blade. I wanted to believe she was lying but whatever I had seen with my own eyes, I couldn’t deny it.

“Now you understand why he adores Candice?” she murmured triumphantly. “Carter would burn the world for me, Olivia. He always has.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

She walked away then—casually, victoriously—leaving me standing in the wreckage of my last illusion. The fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, Carter had once cared for me shattered beyond repair.

Homer’s voice reached me faintly, grounding me just enough to move. He guided me gently to the ward, his presence the only thing keeping me upright. The procedure passed in a haze of white lights and numbness.

When I woke, voices echoed sharply outside my room.

Angry.

Familiar.

I forced myself up, legs trembling as I stepped into the corridor—just in time to hear Carter shouting.

“You—!” His rage snapped the moment he saw me.

He stormed forward and grabbed my arms, his grip brutal, careless of how weak I still was. “How could you do this, Olivia?” he demanded. “Just because I haven’t been paying attention to you like before, you’d punish me like this?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

No shame.

No remorse.

No apology.

Only anger—his anger.

I was grieving the loss of my child. My body ached, my heart was bleeding, and yet he stood there accusing me.

“Yes,” I said hoarsely, yanking my arms free. “I would.”

My voice rose, breaking through the silence. Homer stepped in immediately, steadying me as tears spilled down my face.

“I would punish you a hundred times over, Carter,” I cried. “I ended my pregnancy because of you. Because of your lies. Your betrayal. I want nothing left of you—nothing that would remind me of what you did to me.”

For a moment, I searched his face.

There was nothing there but rage.

Without another word, Carter turned and walked away.

Again.

He didn’t look back.

Didn’t ask if I needed help.

Didn’t care whether I went home with him—or ever came back at all.

I collapsed against Homer’s shoulder and cried, the sound tearing out of me like something dying.

I was done.

With Carter.

With his lies.

With the Velcro family that had broken me piece by piece.

Later, alone in the ward, staring at the ceiling through swollen eyes, I picked up my phone.

And I called my lawyer.

By the time night fell, the divorce papers were being drafted. My final decision of walking away from a life that had never truly been mine.