You're Nothing But A Substitute

The words stunned Thalina into silence.

She blinked once. Then twice. As if doing so might erase what she had just heard.

But the crushing weight in her chest confirmed it.

He had just told her to get rid of their child if she were pregnant.

Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress beneath the table as she forced herself to breathe.

“You'd… want me to get rid of our child?” she asked quietly.

Evander didn’t flinch.

If anything, he leaned back in his chair, calm and composed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. The movement was slow. Controlled. Veins traced faintly beneath his skin.

“You’re supposed to be on birth control, Thalina.”

His hands paused and his gray eyes lifted to hers.

“Did you forget?” His tone remained even, almost conversational. But beneath it lurked something colder.

Thalina felt her throat tighten.

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she forced herself to look away before they could fall.

Five years.

Five years of being forced to stay on birth control.

Five years of swallowing bitter herbal concoctions the weekend housekeeper brewed under his instructions.

Because the thought of her carrying his child repulsed him that much.

And now, he had proven it again.

He was asking her to get rid of a child she wasn’t even carrying.

The irony was almost laughable.

Just hours ago, she had walked into that hospital with hope in her chest, praying a baby might become the bridge between them.

And now—he would rather erase that bridge entirely.

Cruel.

So painfully cruel.

Gritting her teeth to steady herself, she lifted her gaze to his once more.

“If I were pregnant… you would really make me get rid of it?”

The question trembled at the edges—not with weakness, but with the weight of a truth she had avoided for five years.

Evander studied her across the table, unreadable.

Then he spoke.

“From the beginning, I made myself clear that I don’t want a woman like you bearing my heir.”

The words sliced through her.

Her fingers curled tighter around her dress until her nails pressed into her palm.

“Don’t forget your place,” he continued, his expression perfectly composed. But his eyes—those gray eyes she had once loved—were colder than ever. 

“You’re just a substitute for Elowin.”

The reminder and name landed like a blade driven straight into her chest.

Right.

How could she ever forget Elowin Ashcroft. The shadow in her marriage. And ironically, the reason why they'd even gotten married in the first place?

Five years ago, on the day Evander was supposed to marry Elowin Ashcroft—the delicate white flower of their once inseparable trio—she vanished without a trace.

Heartbroken, Evander drank himself into a stupor.

And somehow, in the chaos of that night, he ended up in Thalina’s bed.

The next morning, reality struck harder than any hangover.

Her foster parents stood at the foot of the bed, their expressions a mix of shock and quiet disappointment as they stared down at their tangled limbs.

Responsibility had to be taken, they demanded. 

A marriage had to happen.

And just like that, everything changed.

From that day forward, Evander’s gaze at her shifted.

The softness disappeared. Resentment replaced it.

But Thalina had convinced herself she could endure it.

After all, she was finally marrying the man she had loved for years. She believed—naively—that time would soften him. That he would forget Elowin.

That one day, he would love her.

That illusion shattered on their wedding night.

After fulfilling his duty as a husband, Evander had leaned close to her ear and whispered words colder than ice.

“Don’t ever forget your place. I will never love you, because you will always be just a substitute for Elowin.”

Five years later, those words still echoed in her mind—even now as she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. 

Pa!

A sleek black premium card hit the table in front of her and Thalina’s gaze dropped to it.

“Take it,” Evander said flatly. “And handle whatever you have growing inside you.”

The words were colder than the card lying between them.

Thalina increased the pressure on her lower lip, refusing to look up. Refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill.

She heard the scrape of his chair, the measured rhythm of his footsteps, the door opening and then—

Bang!

It slammed shut and she flinched. 

Seconds later, silence swallowed the room whole and Thalina remained still, blurry gaze fixed on the black card, metallic taste filling her mouth.

Then slowly, quietly her shoulders began to tremble as she kept her head lowered, letting all the tears she'd held back slip free, falling soundlessly onto the polished surface of the table.

~☆~

The next few hours flew by in a blur. 

Between crying still she felt numb, throwing away all the food she'd made and sitting on the edge of her bed in her separate room with the test results spread across her lap—Thalina didn’t notice when the sky darkened.

The sharp ring of her phone cut through the silence.

She blinked and glanced at the device by her side. The name on the screen made her vision blur instantly.

Ronan Voss.

Her best friend.

Without hesitation, she grabbed her phone and answered. 

“Ro—” Her voice cracked before she could steady it.

“Lina,” Ronan’s voice came through, warm and familiar. “I saw your missed calls. Is everything okay?”

Right.

She had called him earlier. Left him a message saying she might be pregnant. Even left him a voice message babbling happy nonsense.

“How did the check-up go?” he asked. “Are you pregnant?”

Silence settled between them and for a second, Thalina considered lying.

But when she opened her mouth, the truth spilled out before she could stop it.

“I’m dying, Ro.”

The line went completely still.

Even without seeing him, she could picture it—the way he’d go rigid. The way his jaw would tighten.

“Stage five stomach cancer,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “They said… I have five months.”

The last words barely made it past her lips. As if saying them louder would make them real.

Another beat of silence.

Then, “Lina.” Ronan whispered, his voice soft and shaken and full of something she hadn’t heard all day.

Care.

Tears crowded her eyes and fell again before she could stop them. Quickly, she wiped them.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do, Ro,” she whispered. “I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

“No.” Ronan’s voice sharpened instantly. “No, Lina. You’re not going to die. Do you hear me? You’re not.”

His certainty broke something inside her.

Fresh tears slid down her cheeks as she closed her eyes and inhaled shakily.

“It’s going to be okay,” he continued, calmer now. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

A faint smile touched her lips.

He had always been like this.

Steady, protective and reassuring even when it felt impossible.

Really, what would she do without him?

“And Evander?” Ronan asked suddenly.

Whatever minor smile had managed its way to her lips, disappeared. 

“Does he know?” Ronan asked. 

Thalina hesitated.

That single second was enough.

“That piece of shit,” Ronan spat. “What kind of husband doesn’t know his wife was at a hospital? Is he home? I’m coming over.”

“Ro—”

“I swear to God, Lina, I’ll—”

“Ronan,” she cut in softly. “Don’t. Please.”

A beat of silence settled on the other end, before Ronan’s incredulous tone nearly split her ear. 

“You’re still protecting him? That isn't right, Thalina.” He said, anger simmering beneath his words, “Five whole years, you've done this for five whole years. Aren't you tired?”

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't tired. But…

“Ronan–”

“You need to divorce him, Thalina.” Ronan said sternly. “Someone like him isn’t worth your next five minutes, let alone the rest of your life, Lina.”

Thalina paused and her fingers twitched against her phone.

Divorce.

The word echoed in her mind like a haunting choice. 

All these years, she had never truly considered it. She had convinced herself that one day, her patience would pay off. That Evander would soften. That he would finally choose her.

But now…

With only months left to live, could she still afford to cling to that illusion?

The thought had barely settled when her bedroom door swung open.

Startled, she spun around to see Evander.

Her heart skipped a beat and without thinking, she ended the call and quickly slid the medical papers beneath her pillow.

“Evan, what—”

Her words were cut off. In a blink, her back was pressed back against the mattress, her hands pinned securely above her head and Evander hovering above her. 

Her breath hitched and her eyes widened. But the next second, they narrowed as the scent hit her.

Alcohol.

She squinted up at him in the dim lighting of her room and sure enough his usually sharp gray eyes were hazy. His ears slightly flushed.

Evander Hale—who avoided alcohol because he couldn’t handle it… was drunk!

“Evander…” she started, but didn’t get the chance to utter more than his name because before she could even think to react, Evander leaned down—

And hungrily captured her lips with his.