7. Too Late

Marcus’s Point of View

The day felt heavy, as if the very air was suffocating me. I drove home, my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary, my mind caught in an endless loop. Vanessa. The pregnancy. Her words still echoed in my head, each syllable like a knife plunged into my chest. “I’m pregnant, Marcus. It’s yours.” She’d said it with a gleam in her eyes, as if she expected me to embrace her, to throw everything away and run to her. As if I’d leave my life, my Ella, for her.

I couldn’t even look at her properly. My stomach churned, and anger took over. “You’re going to abort it,” I said, my voice cold, cutting. “I don’t want an illegitimate child. My children will be with my wife, with Ella. Only with her.” The words came out harsh, and I saw Vanessa’s face crumble, her eyes shimmering with tears I knew were more manipulative than genuine. She was always like that, a master at playing with emotions, using that perfect face to get what she wanted.

“Marcus, you can’t be serious,” she shot back, her voice trembling but with that calculated tone I knew too well. “We have something special. I love you, and this baby—”

“Stop dreaming, Vanessa,” I cut her off, out of patience. “I’m never going to marry you. What we had was a mistake, a moment of weakness. It’s over.” I pulled the check from my pocket, already filled out with an amount I knew was more than enough to silence any drama. “Take this, end this story, and move on with your life. Don’t contact me again.”

She took the check, her hands shaking, her face a mix of anger and humiliation. “You’ll regret this, Marcus Carter,” she said softly, almost like a threat. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to get out of there, erase that mistake from my life, and go back home to Ella. My Ella. The woman I loved, the woman I swore to protect. What I did with Vanessa was stupid, a betrayal I never planned, but it happened in a moment of weakness. I couldn’t let it destroy what we had.

When I got home, the silence hit me like a punch. The house was too quiet, the kind of stillness that wasn’t natural. “Ella?” I called, dropping my keys on the entryway table. Nothing. I ran up the stairs, my heart starting to race, a bad feeling growing in my chest. The bedroom was empty. The bed, perfectly made, as if no one had slept there. I opened the closet, and my stomach dropped. Her clothes, those colorful blouses she loved, the dresses I always complimented, were all gone. It was as if she’d never been there.

“Ella!” I shouted, rushing back to the living room, panic rising in my throat. That’s when I saw it. On the desk, glinting under the dim light of the lamp, was her wedding ring. The ring I placed on her finger on our wedding day, when I promised to love and honor her forever. Next to it, a small box and a note. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely open the paper. Ella’s words, written in that delicate handwriting I knew so well, hit me like a bullet:

“Marcus, I know everything. You betrayed me, humiliated me, and I will never forgive you. Don’t try to find me. It’s over. Goodbye.”

The world collapsed. My legs gave out, and I leaned on the desk to keep from falling. No, this couldn’t be happening. Ella couldn’t be gone. She couldn’t have found out. How? When? My mind raced, replaying every moment, every conversation, every look she gave me over the past few days. She’d been different, distant, but I thought it was exhaustion, stress from the hospital. How could I have been so blind?

I grabbed my phone with trembling hands and dialed her number. It rang and rang, and for a moment, I thought she wouldn’t pick up. But then her voice, cold and sharp, came through. “What do you want, Marcus?”

“Ella, my love, where are you? Please, come home. We need to talk,” I pleaded, my voice breaking, desperation taking over. “I don’t know what you think you know, but let me explain, please.”

“Explain?” She laughed, a bitter sound I’d never heard from her before. “Explain what? That you were sleeping with Vanessa Monroe while telling me you loved me? That you proposed to her while I was at home, thinking we were happy? I saw the photos, Marcus. I know everything.”

Her words hit me like punches. Photos? What photos? The party with Vanessa, our friends… My God, she saw that. “Ella, it’s not what it looks like. I swear, I ended things with her. I never meant to hurt you, I love you, you’re everything to me—”

“Stop lying!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “You think I’m an idiot? That I’ll believe your promises again? I trusted you, Marcus. I gave everything for you. And you threw it all away for her. For a woman who will never love you like I did.”

“Ella, please, just listen,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried, but now I couldn’t stop. “I made a mistake, yes, but I ended it with her. I told her I’d never marry her, that the baby means nothing to me. I only want you, Ella. Only you.”

“You told her to abort?” Her voice was so cold it made me shudder. “You think that fixes anything? That it erases what you did? You destroyed our marriage, Marcus. You destroyed everything I believed in. And now you want me to come back to you like nothing happened?”

“Ella, please, give me a chance. I’ll do anything, I swear. I’ll get on my knees, I’ll beg for the rest of my life if I have to. Just don’t leave me,” I said, my voice faltering, my heart squeezed like it was being crushed.

“Open the box I left,” she said, too calm, as if she’d already given up on me. “I’ve already signed. You just need to do the same.”

“What box?” I asked, but my eyes were already on the desk, where the small black box sat next to the note. With trembling hands, I opened it. Inside was a document. Divorce papers. And her signature, clear and firm, on the last page. My world crumbled again, as if the ground had vanished beneath me.

“Ella, no. Please, don’t do this. I love you, I can’t live without you,” I pleaded, the words tumbling out, desperate and jumbled. “Tell me where you are, I’ll come to you now. We can fix this, I swear.”

“You made your choice, Marcus,” she said, her voice so steady it cut through me. “You chose Vanessa, you chose to lie, you chose to betray me. Now I’m choosing to value myself. Don’t look for me. Don’t call me. It’s over.”

The call ended. The silence returned, heavier than before. I tried calling again, but her phone was already off. “No, no, no,” I muttered, running my hands through my hair, panic consuming me. I ran to the bedroom, as if somehow she might still be there, as if this were a nightmare. But the empty closet, the ring on the desk, the divorce papers—everything was real.

I sank to the floor, the papers still in my hands, and cried. Cried like I’d never cried before, as if I could undo my mistakes with tears. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew I’d lost her. My Ella, the woman I loved more than anything, the woman I swore to protect. And for what? For a moment of weakness, for a stupid fling that meant nothing.

I wanted to run after her, find her, fall to my knees and beg. But where was she? How could I fix this? I grabbed my phone again, calling Amanda, Theo, anyone who might know where she was. No one answered. No one knew. Or maybe no one wanted to tell me.

“Ella, forgive me,” I whispered to the empty house, clutching her ring against my chest. But deep down, I knew. It was too late.