This Isn't About You

Serena's POV

I closed the bedroom door behind me and stood there for a moment with my back pressed against it.

The apartment suddenly felt too quiet.

Too small.

From somewhere down the hall, I could still hear the faint murmur of their voices.

I pushed myself off the door and walked toward the bed slowly.

My legs felt weak.

My hands rested lifelessly in my lap as I sat at the edge of the mattress. I stared down at them blankly.

My wedding ring still sat on my finger.

Three years old.

Platinum band. Small diamond.

Damien had proposed at the same restaurant where we had our first date. He barely made it halfway through the question before I burst into tears.

I had been so sure of him.

So sure he loved me.

My fingers twisted the ring once before stopping completely.

Then, both hands moved instinctively to my stomach instead.

My baby.

That thought kept returning underneath everything else.

My baby.

It wasn't ours anymore. Just mine.

Because there was no "ours" anymore.

Maybe there hadn't been for a long time.

Three miscarriages.

Three times, Damien held my hand while I cried and mourned beside him, believing we were grieving the same loss together.

God.

I believed him so completely.

I thought every loss was pulling us closer even while it tore us apart.

But all those nights—

He had probably gone back to Rose afterward.

Back to her comfort.

Her arms.

Her love.

And I had been too busy loving my husband to notice he already belonged to someone else.

I slowly lay back against the bed without bothering to pull the covers over myself.

The ceiling above me was painfully plain.

Empty.

I closed my eyes, expecting tears but none came.

I had gone beyond crying.

The grief inside me felt too large now. Too deep. It settled inside my chest like silence instead.

I stayed there until footsteps echoed down the hallway.

The bedroom door opened around half past eight.

Damien walked in while loosening his collar, his phone still in his hand.

He glanced at me briefly, and something flickered across his face.

Surprise, maybe.

Like he hadn't expected me to already be in bed.

But it vanished almost immediately.

“You're in early,” he said casually.

“Tired.”

My voice sounded terrifyingly normal.

I almost felt proud of myself.

He nodded once and walked toward the wardrobe.

The familiar scent of his cologne filled the room, and my stomach twisted painfully.

“Did you eat?” he asked, avoiding my eyes.

“Not yet.”

“I'll make something later.”

“Okay.”

That was it.

That was all.

Like our marriage wasn't quietly bleeding out between us.

He disappeared into the bathroom moments later.

Soon, the sound of running water filled the room.

I stared blankly ahead while keeping one hand pressed against my stomach.

My breathing stayed calm somehow.

Steady.

Even though my entire world had just collapsed.

When Damien walked back out, his hair was damp, and he smelled like soap.

He looked exactly like the man I married.

And somehow, that hurt even more.

He sat on his side of the bed, scrolling through his phone.

Then casually, like he was discussing the weather, he spoke.

“Rose is staying over tonight. The weather's bad, so I told her not to drive.”

I turned slowly to look at him.

His face remained calm.

Composed.

He met my eyes without flinching.

Three years of marriage, and he could still lie to me that easily.

Rose is staying over tonight.

Like she wasn't carrying his child.

Like I hadn't heard everything.

“Fine,” I answered quietly.

His eyes lingered on me for a second too long.

“You seem quiet tonight.”

I swallowed carefully.

“I told you. I'm tired.”

“Right.”

He looked back down at his phone.

I watched him from the corner of my eye, and a cold thought settled heavily inside me.

He was never really yours.

You just didn't know it yet.

Hours passed quietly.

Eventually, Damien fell asleep with his phone resting against his chest. His breathing deepened slowly, his hand slipping loose beside him.

I waited longer just to be certain.

Then, sometime around two in the morning, I felt movement beside me.

The mattress dipped lightly before the warmth beside me disappeared.

My eyes opened instantly.

I stayed still for a few seconds before quietly sitting up.

Damien was gone.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand with trembling fingers.

Then I opened the voice recorder.

And pressed record.

The hallway outside was dark.

I moved carefully without turning on any lights, my bare feet silent against the floor.

But my heartbeat was deafening.

A thin line of light glowed beneath the guest room door.

I already knew.

I knew Damien was inside with her.

Still, my chest tightened painfully as I stopped outside the room.

I held my breath and raised the phone slightly.

Then I listened.

“She doesn't suspect anything,” Rose said confidently. “You saw her at dinner. She's completely oblivious.”

A brief silence followed.

Then Damien spoke quietly.

“She seemed different tonight.”

“She's always quiet,” Rose replied dismissively. “Serena trusts too easily. That's why this worked for so long.”

My throat tightened painfully.

I pressed myself harder against the wall.

“The baby changes things,” Damien said after a moment.

“No, it doesn't.” Rose sounded calm. Certain. “Nobody has to know it's yours. I've already told you. I'll handle everything quietly.”

“Rose—”

“I mean it.” Her voice softened. “You stay married to Serena. Keep things normal publicly, and I'll raise the baby privately.”

My stomach twisted violently.

They weren't planning to tell me the truth.

They weren't planning to end the marriage.

Their plan was worse.

Much worse.

They wanted to keep me exactly where I was.

A wife for display.

While Rose carried his child in secret.

“Rose—”

“Damien.” Her voice turned gentler. Manipulative. “It's the only way Serena won't find out. You know how she is. She'll fall apart. And the divorce would become messy. The family would get involved—”

“I know.”

“Then we keep things the way they are. For now.”

My chest felt tight.

Heavy.

Like breathing itself hurt.

Then Rose spoke again, and this time, there was cruelty in her voice.

“She wants a baby so badly. If she ever gets pregnant again, she'll focus on that instead of you. Serena pours herself into people she loves. She won't notice anything else.”

Silence.

Then Damien answered quietly.

“She's been through enough already.”

“And so have we.”

We.

Again.

I closed my eyes briefly.

Then I turned and walked back toward the bedroom before they could hear me break apart outside that door.

Once inside, I pressed stop on the recorder.

The room was dark when I sat down slowly at the edge of the bed.

I stared at the recording on my screen.

I had everything I needed now.

Proof, truth, and closure.

I didn't sleep that night.

I simply sat there in silence while dawn slowly crept through the curtains.

Damien was never going to leave Rose.

And Rose was never going to let him go.

They would fight for each other no matter who got destroyed in the process.

Including me.

My hand slowly moved back to my stomach.

I closed my eyes tightly.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered silently to the life growing inside me. “This isn't your fault.”

And God—

I meant it with everything inside me.

But I already knew what kind of life this child would enter.

A broken marriage.

A cheating father.

A home poisoned by lies.

I couldn't do that to my baby.

And I couldn't do it to myself either.

By the time sunlight filled the room completely, I had made my decision.

I was going to divorce my husband.

Get the abortion.

And leave his life forever.

I was done being the only one fighting for a marriage that died long ago.