The Wild Freedom I Choose

"Elara, Celia is carrying my child. I can't just abandon her. For me, please… endure this."

"Cyran! You betray me, then expect me to welcome your mistress into our home—pregnant?"

My hands shook with fury. The international show-jumping notice I'd been holding crumpled into a tight ball.

"I've wanted children for years, but you refused—always hiding behind your precious competitions. And now you dare to blame me?"

Seeing Cyran flare up, Celia rushed in with feigned sympathy, pretending to play peacemaker. "He only wants a baby so badly. For you, he's swallowed his pride all these years. Can't you just—"

"Enough!"

I brushed past her, but she gave a startled cry and stumbled back.

Cyran caught her, then shoved me away as if I were the intruder.

I hit the floor, the notice flying from my hand.

He snatched it up. The moment his eyes landed on the words, his face hardened.

"Another equestrian event. Always the horses. Never me. Never this family. God, I regret marrying you."

He hurled the paper at my face, then wrapped his arm protectively around Celia and led her into the guest room.

My tears slid silently down as I watched their retreating figures.

I had always known Celia Dawn lingered in the shadows.

She had been Cyran's first love in college—poor in background, but striking and determined. Yet the Valehart elders dismissed her outright.

Maybe it was our similar upbringings and shared interests, but he grew fond of me quickly, and he never shied from mentioning Celia.

Raised in privilege, proud and self-assured, I never once regarded his former lover as a threat.

For six years of marriage, Cyran treated me with patience and respect.

As a professional show-jumping athlete, I had made it clear: I wouldn't have children until I won the world championship.

Cyran bore the elders' relentless pressure and stood by me without hesitation.

I believed we would always support each other, walking toward happiness side by side.

But today, Celia strode in openly, her belly heavy with his child, claiming her place as if it were hers by right.

That was when I understood. His devotion had been a mask, his loyalty nothing more than denial of a flame that never died.

All those compliments—perfect couple, marriage of equals—were lies I had let myself believe.

The bedroom door slammed shut. I wiped my face dry.

"Elara, I lost my temper just now. I'm sorry." Cyran slipped his arm around my shoulders, his voice soft, coaxing.

"But you never wanted children. And now, someone else can give us one. Isn't that the best of both worlds? When the time comes, the baby will be yours to raise. You're so exceptional—you'll raise it well."

Ice spread through my veins. Fighting the nausea and humiliation, I pushed him away.

"When did it start?"

Cyran hesitated before speaking. "Not long. My family's been pressuring me about children, and then I ran into her… I couldn't hold back—just that once."

"She's already showing. At least four months along. How long were you planning to lie to me?" My voice broke as I exposed him.

His lips clamped shut, guilt written all over his face.

"Do you still love me?"

His silence was my answer. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. When I looked at him again, the love I once carried was gone.

"Cyran," I said coldly, "we're getting a divorce."