Evelyn's POV The pregnancy report was crumpled in my hand. My palms were sweaty, but I didn't care. I was staring at the word Positive that changed my life. After three years of marriage, three years of being the invisible, "perfect" wife, I finally had what I thought would make Ryan love me.

I ran up the stairs, my heart thumping against my ribs. I was so happy I could scream. I didn't even knock. I wanted to surprise him. I wanted to see that cold, handsome face of his break into a smile for the first time.

I pushed the bedroom door open.

"Ryan! I have the best news—"

The words died in my throat. The room smelled like a woman’s perfume. A scent I didn't own. It was expensive, floral, and suffocating. My eyes locked onto the bed. Our bed. Ryan wasn't alone. He was tangled in the sheets with a woman. I knew that face. 

It was Daphne. His first love. The woman he had never truly forgotten.

I stood there like a statue. I felt like someone had poured ice water down my throat. My brain just stopped working. I watched his hands, the hands that rarely touched me, holding her with a desperate kind of passion.

Ryan looked up. He saw me standing there, pale and trembling. I expected him to jump up. I expected him to look guilty, or at least try to explain.

But he didn't. He didn't even try to cover himself. His eyes were cold, filled with a sharp, jagged annoyance.

"Get out," he said. His voice was like a whip cracking in the air. "Who gave you permission to come in here without knocking?"

"Ryan..." My voice was a broken whisper. "I... I just wanted to tell you..."

"I don't care what you wanted," he barked. "Get out. Now. And don't come back in here tonight."

I stumbled back, my legs feeling like jelly. I didn't say another word. I couldn't. I turned and ran. I ran down the stairs so fast I almost tripped. I reached the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, the silence of the house feeling like a heavy weight on my chest.

I sat there in the dark for hours. I didn't turn on the lights. I just stared at the wall, my hand still gripping the pregnancy report. Upstairs, the floorboards creaked. I knew what was happening. Every sound was like a knife being driven into my heart. My husband was upstairs with his first love, while I was sitting in the dark like an unwanted guest.

It’s just a mistake, I told myself. My mind was racing, trying to find any excuse for him. He’s just overwhelmed because she’s back. They were probably drinking. It’s just one night. It doesn’t mean he’s leaving me.

I looked down at the paper in my hand. Positive.

"It’s okay," I whispered to the empty room. Tears were streaming down my face, but I wiped them away. "I’m still the one with the ring. I’m his legal wife. We have a life together. If I’m quiet, if I don’t complain, if I act like I didn’t see anything... he’ll stay. He has to stay. I have a baby now."

I had nowhere else to go. I had no family left, no career of my own, and not a penny in my name that didn't come from his allowance. Ryan was my world. He was my roof, my food, my oxygen. I convinced myself that once I told him about the baby, this "Daphne fever" would break. 

A child changes a man. It had to.

The sun started to peek through the curtains. It was morning. I hadn't slept a wink, but I stood up anyway. My eyes were puffy and red, but I headed straight for the kitchen.

I started to cook. It was the only thing I knew how to do for him. I cracked eggs, fried bacon, and brewed the specific Blue Mountain blend Ryan loved. My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped the plates.

I didn't just make breakfast for two. I made a third plate.

I knew how pathetic I looked. I was cooking breakfast for the woman who had just spent the night in my husband's bed. But I was desperate. If being a servant was the price of keeping my marriage intact, I would pay it without a second thought.

I heard footsteps on the stairs. My heart jumped. I forced a smile onto my face, a fragile, fake smile that felt like it would shatter at any second.

Ryan walked into the kitchen. He looked perfect, as usual. His suit was crisp, his hair was neat. He looked like he hadn't just spent the night betraying his wife.

"Ryan, you’re awake," I said, my voice trembling. "I made breakfast. Your favorite. I... I made a plate for Daphne too. Should I call her down?"

I was practically begging for a kind word. A look. Anything.

But Ryan didn't even look at the table. He didn't look at the food I’d spent an hour preparing. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a fountain pen and a thick stack of papers, and tossed them onto the kitchen island.

The sound of the papers hitting the granite was like a gunshot.

"Don't bother with the food," he said. His voice was completely flat. No emotion. No guilt. "We’re getting a divorce. Daphne is back now. I’m giving her back the position that was always supposed to be hers."

The world seemed to spin. I grabbed the edge of the counter so I wouldn't fall.

"Divorce?" I gasped. "But Ryan... I don’t care about last night. I really don't! You can see her if you want. I won't get in the way. I love you so much, Ryan. I've done everything for you for three years..."

"I don't need your love, Evelyn," he interrupted. He looked at me with pure boredom, like I was a piece of trash he was finally throwing away. "I never did. You were just a placeholder while she was gone. Now that she’s back, you’re not needed."

"Please," I sobbed, reaching out to grab his sleeve."Ryan. You’re my only family. Please don't throw me out."

Ryan pulled his arm away as if my touch disgusted him. He didn't even blink at my tears.

"You have three days to leave," he said, checking his watch. He was worried about being late for work, not about destroying my life.