“YVONNE, Where are you?” A familiar voice echoed in the house.
“Desmond!” I called out as I reached him. It's been weeks or maybe a month since I last saw him. I can finally tell him about the news—Maybe it would change everything. Maybe he will remember us again. Just maybe. That’s all I’m hoping for. He barely looked at me. His face was pale, his eyes were cold. “We’re going to the hospital.” he said abruptly, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward his car. “What? Why?” I asked, confused by the urgency in his voice. “Samantha needs you.” he said, his tone sharp, almost impatient. The name hits me like a slap.Samantha. Of course. He didn’t wait for my permission. He didn’t ask. He just dragged me along, as if I owed him this. “Let me go.” I cried, pulling my arm out of his grip. “I don’t want to go with you!” He turned to me, his eyes blazing with anger. “What did you just say?” “I said I don’t want to go to the hospital, Desmond.” My voice cracked, and my hands trembled as I backed away. “Please…I don't want to do this again.” His eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed with anger. “Your sister needs blood, Yvonne. Stop being selfish, it's just blood.” His words cut through me like a blade. I froze. The word “selfish” felt like a cruel joke. “She’s not my sister!” I said, my voice breaking. “She never was. And I was never selfish. I gave them everything they needed.” I flinched when he raised his hand like he was going to hit me—but he stopped. My tears fell. He was about to hit me. “We just lost our child!” he shouted, his voice cracking with range. “Child?” I whispered, my lips trembling. “You…You had a child?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped closer. “Do I need to beg you to save her?” I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “I’m your wife, Desmond! How could you do this to me?” I knew that there was something going on between them, but I never imagined that he would rather have a child with her—than with me, his wife. He laughed—a cold, empty laugh. “My wife?” he repeated, voice dripping with disdain. “On paper, yes, you are my wife. ” He stepped closer to me. “Haven’t you remembered? You forced me to marry you. So now—play your role, just as I play mine.” His words were like daggers. I thought we were getting better. I thought…maybe if I gave him everything—my body, my everything—maybe he would learn to love and care for me. The pain in my stomach got worse. I’m sorry baby, your dad is lying he loves you. “You're wasting my time!” He sneered. “If you won’t help Samantha, then leave. I don’t want to see you again. ” “I’m Pregnant.” I blurted, desperation leaking into my voice. “I’m pregnant, Desmond. We're going to have a baby.” I repeated, hoping the words would change his mind—and choose me this time. He stared at me like I had said something disgusting. “Are you kidding me right now?” he said coldly. “You're telling me that you're pregnant—now—right after Samantha and I lost our child?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Are you really this desperate just to avoid helping your sister?” his voice lauder now, full of anger. “Do you remember who saved you? You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for her. You owe everything to Samantha!” His words hit hard. I couldn’t speak.No, Desmond, you're wrong Samantha oweS everything to me. I wanted to shout that to him but I felt so weak. My eyes are blurry with tears. “Please…” I whispered. “Believe me… this baby is yours. You’re the only man I’ve been with.” He took a step back as I reached his arms feeling disgusted. “That’s not mine!” He shouted. “Samantha was right. You can’t be trusted. Whose child is that? Is it Nick’s?” He grabbed my arm tightly. I shook my head, tears falling. “No… this is yours.” I protested. “F*ck that bastard!” he screamed. He slammed his fist against the car window, shattering the glass into pieces. “Desmond, please… It's our child.” I whispered. “Abort that thing!” He said firmly. “A thing?” I said between my sobs. “I won’t have a child with you.” But he would for her—for Samantha. I felt the ground open beneath me, my whole world collapsed. “Leave. I don’t want to see you ever again.” I stared at him, my vision blurred with tears. My knees gave up. I fell to the floor crying. Desmond didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back. The door slammed shut behind him, and I was left alone—shattered and broken by the very man I once believed had saved me from my past. For a year, I endured the pain… the silence… the rejection. I fought for the love I thought was still there—for the version of him I used to know. But now…I don’t want my unborn child to feel the way I’ve felt—unwanted.Maybe this is the moment I stop fighting.Maybe this is the time to finally let him go.I can’t stay with Desmond anymore. He’s not the man I fell in love with. Not anymore Maybe this is all my fault—maybe this is the price I’m praying for what I did to him. Maybe this is the consequence of everything I’ve done. I can't fight a battle that ended before it even started. With the last bit of strength left in me, I pulled my phone and called the last person I could trust. “Nick, we need your help.” I begged. “Stay there, I’m on my way.” those were the words I heard from the other person on the line...before I lost consciousness.Desmond,Be happy with her. I'm sorry for being a burden to you. I fought for us but I need to let you go. Maybe this is for the best for the three of us.I hope you live the life you always wanted. Even if it's without me.Take care, I love you…always.~Love,Yvonne.LOOKING UP at the bold sign of my very own coffee shop, a wave of emotions crashed over me. Just a few years ago, I had been lost, broken, convinced that I would never be able to stand on my own again. But here I was–stronger, braver and finally rebuilding a life I could be proud of.Not just for me. But now I have my son.“Mommy! Can I put my drawing here?” my four-year-old son asked, his voice bubbling with excitement as he clutched his small masterpiece. His bright eyes sparkled with pride.“Of course, my love.” I said with a warm smile.Kneeling beside him to help him secure his artwork in the perfect spot on the wall. When I finally saw what he had drawn—a family. My breath hitched.There they were—five stick figures, their arms outstretched, smiles drawn wide with bold crayon strokes. A sun beamed down from the corner, and flowers dotted the grass below their feet. “Daddy,Yandrich, Mommy, Daddy Nick, and Mommy Ally!” He announced proudly, tapping each figure with a finger. I
THE ONCE empty hall was now filled with vibrant paintings, the air buzzing with excitement as guests admired the children’s artwork. Everything had come together beautifully.But then the air shifted.The moment I lifted my gaze toward the entrance, I felt the world tilt beneath my feet.A familiar figure of a man stepped inside the hall. Broad shoulders, and those fierce ocean-blue eyes—my breath hitched, I composed myself. I had prepared for this moment a thousand times in my head, but now he was here, standing just a few feet away…Desmond Kyle Velasquez—my son’s father and my ex-husband.I KEPT my smile steady, my posture firm.I wasn’t the same Yvonne they once knew—the girl who was too naive, too fragile. I had rebuilt myself from the ruins they left me in, and tonight, I wasn’t going to let their presence affect me.Desmond’s piercing ocean blue eyes stared at me, and only when a delicate arm of a woman was wrapped around his arm, he looked away. It was her—Samantha.He looked
“HE WANTS to buy our painting mommy.” My son innocently said smiling at me.While Desmond looked at my son intently making me want to grab Yandrich and hide him.What if he'll have an idea that Yandrich is his son?“I didn't know Mr. Velasquez had a son.” I heard a guess said when they passed us. “They completely look alike.” I didn't know what to do. From our distance I know that Desmond could also hear what they are saying. Even though he looks like he's paying attention to what Yandrich is explaining about the painting that I wasn't able to hear. Then Desmond's fierce ocean blue eyes looked at me. I froze, afraid of what he would say about my son—our son.For a brief second it felt like time had stopped.“Desmond, it's been a while.” Nick's voice cut through the tension like a blade. I hadn't even noticed him stepping towards them. Desmond’s gaze flickered toward him, but he didn't acknowledge the greeting.I HAD practiced this moment in my head countless times. Thought of every
SHE GRABBED Desmond’s arm tightly, her voice laced with sugary sweetness.“Babe, I've been looking all over for you.” she poured with a pout. “I already had the paintings I like–for our new house.”Her eyes flicker to me as she says the word our new house, dripping with mockery.Desmond didn't even flinch. “Okay.” he simply replied, calm—but he seems distant for some reason.“Wait for me in the car with mom.”He gently pried her fingers from his arms and turned away—his eyes finding mine with quiet intensity.“I'm not done here.” he said this in a low voice "I still a very important piece i need to deal with Ms. Garcia."Samantha's expression flattered for a brief second. The furry behind her plastic smile barely stayed hidden. Her gaze followed to the painting on the wall—Ocean Eyes.“I want to buy that painting.” Desmond said, his voice steady, his eyes fixed on the canvas.He looked mesmerized by it.I painted it when Yandrich was just two years old—because everytime I looked into
“CAN YOU DRIVE?” he asked, looking into my eyes. “Or do you want me to take you home?” His gaze was deep—too deep. I felt like if I stared too long he’d read right through me.“N-No need.” I stammered. “Thank you, Mr. Velasquez.”I quickly opened my car door and got in. I glanced at him. He was on his phone now, his expression serious again. Then he walked toward my window. I lowered it.“Take care.” he said simply.I nodded, unable to speak.Sh*t…Sh*t…this is so wrong.I can’t feel this way towards him anymore.He’s already moved on, Yvonne!This is all an act. Don't believe him!I HAVE no idea how I got home safe after everything that happened. I still can’t believe how Desmond treated me—like he was the man I used to know.No. Yvonne this is wrong. You moved on… right?As I opened the door to our house, the soft click of the lock echoed. I thought Nick left but he was at the bar counter, his back slightly hunched, a glass of beer in his hand. “He’s asleep. Ally’s with him.” he
WEEKS had passed since I discovered the truth, and so far…we haven't seen each other again. And for that, I’m thankful.Because if we did—I honestly don’t know how I’d feel. I don’t know how I’d react.I kept telling myself I shouldn’t feel this way.That I need to move on. That I should stop thinking about the what ifs.That’s why I’m grateful that our paths haven’t crossed again. I hope we will never cross paths again.I’m also thankful for Nick and Ally—for putting our safety first, for protecting me and Yandrich when I couldn’t do it alone.“Maybe this is for the best. Maybe there’s a reason why destiny allowed things to happen like this.” That’s what exactly I told myself the day Nick and Ally told me the truth about Desmond.I can’t let these emotions overpower me.I need to protect Yandrich—and to do that, I have to stop myself from feeling whatever this is…this emotion I can’t even name when it comes to Desmond. That's why I can’t see him again….never.Because if I do—I hone
WEEKS had passed since I discovered the truth, and so far…we haven't seen each other again. And for that, I’m thankful.Because if we did—I honestly don’t know how I’d feel. I don’t know how I’d react.I kept telling myself I shouldn’t feel this way.That I need to move on. That I should stop thinking about the what ifs.That’s why I’m grateful that our paths haven’t crossed again. I hope we will never cross paths again.I’m also thankful for Nick and Ally—for putting our safety first, for protecting me and Yandrich when I couldn’t do it alone.“Maybe this is for the best. Maybe there’s a reason why destiny allowed things to happen like this.” That’s what exactly I told myself the day Nick and Ally told me the truth about Desmond.I can’t let these emotions overpower me.I need to protect Yandrich—and to do that, I have to stop myself from feeling whatever this is…this emotion I can’t even name when it comes to Desmond. That's why I can’t see him again….never.Because if I do—I hone
“CAN YOU DRIVE?” he asked, looking into my eyes. “Or do you want me to take you home?” His gaze was deep—too deep. I felt like if I stared too long he’d read right through me.“N-No need.” I stammered. “Thank you, Mr. Velasquez.”I quickly opened my car door and got in. I glanced at him. He was on his phone now, his expression serious again. Then he walked toward my window. I lowered it.“Take care.” he said simply.I nodded, unable to speak.Sh*t…Sh*t…this is so wrong.I can’t feel this way towards him anymore.He’s already moved on, Yvonne!This is all an act. Don't believe him!I HAVE no idea how I got home safe after everything that happened. I still can’t believe how Desmond treated me—like he was the man I used to know.No. Yvonne this is wrong. You moved on… right?As I opened the door to our house, the soft click of the lock echoed. I thought Nick left but he was at the bar counter, his back slightly hunched, a glass of beer in his hand. “He’s asleep. Ally’s with him.” he
SHE GRABBED Desmond’s arm tightly, her voice laced with sugary sweetness.“Babe, I've been looking all over for you.” she poured with a pout. “I already had the paintings I like–for our new house.”Her eyes flicker to me as she says the word our new house, dripping with mockery.Desmond didn't even flinch. “Okay.” he simply replied, calm—but he seems distant for some reason.“Wait for me in the car with mom.”He gently pried her fingers from his arms and turned away—his eyes finding mine with quiet intensity.“I'm not done here.” he said this in a low voice "I still a very important piece i need to deal with Ms. Garcia."Samantha's expression flattered for a brief second. The furry behind her plastic smile barely stayed hidden. Her gaze followed to the painting on the wall—Ocean Eyes.“I want to buy that painting.” Desmond said, his voice steady, his eyes fixed on the canvas.He looked mesmerized by it.I painted it when Yandrich was just two years old—because everytime I looked into
“HE WANTS to buy our painting mommy.” My son innocently said smiling at me.While Desmond looked at my son intently making me want to grab Yandrich and hide him.What if he'll have an idea that Yandrich is his son?“I didn't know Mr. Velasquez had a son.” I heard a guess said when they passed us. “They completely look alike.” I didn't know what to do. From our distance I know that Desmond could also hear what they are saying. Even though he looks like he's paying attention to what Yandrich is explaining about the painting that I wasn't able to hear. Then Desmond's fierce ocean blue eyes looked at me. I froze, afraid of what he would say about my son—our son.For a brief second it felt like time had stopped.“Desmond, it's been a while.” Nick's voice cut through the tension like a blade. I hadn't even noticed him stepping towards them. Desmond’s gaze flickered toward him, but he didn't acknowledge the greeting.I HAD practiced this moment in my head countless times. Thought of every
THE ONCE empty hall was now filled with vibrant paintings, the air buzzing with excitement as guests admired the children’s artwork. Everything had come together beautifully.But then the air shifted.The moment I lifted my gaze toward the entrance, I felt the world tilt beneath my feet.A familiar figure of a man stepped inside the hall. Broad shoulders, and those fierce ocean-blue eyes—my breath hitched, I composed myself. I had prepared for this moment a thousand times in my head, but now he was here, standing just a few feet away…Desmond Kyle Velasquez—my son’s father and my ex-husband.I KEPT my smile steady, my posture firm.I wasn’t the same Yvonne they once knew—the girl who was too naive, too fragile. I had rebuilt myself from the ruins they left me in, and tonight, I wasn’t going to let their presence affect me.Desmond’s piercing ocean blue eyes stared at me, and only when a delicate arm of a woman was wrapped around his arm, he looked away. It was her—Samantha.He looked
LOOKING UP at the bold sign of my very own coffee shop, a wave of emotions crashed over me. Just a few years ago, I had been lost, broken, convinced that I would never be able to stand on my own again. But here I was–stronger, braver and finally rebuilding a life I could be proud of.Not just for me. But now I have my son.“Mommy! Can I put my drawing here?” my four-year-old son asked, his voice bubbling with excitement as he clutched his small masterpiece. His bright eyes sparkled with pride.“Of course, my love.” I said with a warm smile.Kneeling beside him to help him secure his artwork in the perfect spot on the wall. When I finally saw what he had drawn—a family. My breath hitched.There they were—five stick figures, their arms outstretched, smiles drawn wide with bold crayon strokes. A sun beamed down from the corner, and flowers dotted the grass below their feet. “Daddy,Yandrich, Mommy, Daddy Nick, and Mommy Ally!” He announced proudly, tapping each figure with a finger. I
“YVONNE, Where are you?” A familiar voice echoed in the house.“Desmond!” I called out as I reached him.It's been weeks or maybe a month since I last saw him.I can finally tell him about the news—Maybe it would change everything.Maybe he will remember us again.Just maybe. That’s all I’m hoping for.He barely looked at me. His face was pale, his eyes were cold.“We’re going to the hospital.” he said abruptly, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward his car.“What? Why?” I asked, confused by the urgency in his voice.“Samantha needs you.” he said, his tone sharp, almost impatient.The name hits me like a slap.Samantha. Of course.He didn’t wait for my permission. He didn’t ask. He just dragged me along, as if I owed him this.“Let me go.” I cried, pulling my arm out of his grip. “I don’t want to go with you!”He turned to me, his eyes blazing with anger. “What did you just say?”“I said I don’t want to go to the hospital, Desmond.” My voice cracked, and my hands trembled as I backed