3. A Small Gift

Rain fell softly that night, as if the sky itself wept with Emma. The droplets tapped gently against the car window, yet to her ears, the sound was nothing but mockery. Each drop reminded her of what had just shattered—something she could never put back together again.

The black car sped down the slick road, leaving behind the grand villa still echoing with laughter and music—sounds that now belonged to another world. Streetlights shimmered across puddles, their reflections blurring through the veil of tears that refused to stop falling.

In her trembling hand, Emma clutched a small white box wrapped with a silver ribbon. A gift meant to be the highlight of the evening. A surprise she was supposed to present to Harry in front of their guests—with a bright smile and eyes full of joy.

A small miracle she had waited months for.

Now, it felt like a burden.

She stopped in front of their house—a modern home that usually felt warm and alive, but tonight stood cold and hollow. Stepping out of the car, her heels clicked weakly against the wet pavement. She tried to wipe her tears before entering, but it was useless. The moment the door closed behind her, Emma collapsed onto the couch in the living room.

Her hands shook as she opened the little box. Inside was a pregnancy test—two bold red lines staring back at her. Her vision blurred. Her lips trembled without sound, until finally, a broken whisper escaped.

“Congratulations… you’re going to be a father.”

The words she was meant to say hours ago.

But instead of Harry’s joyful embrace, what she had received was betrayal—

a stolen kiss beneath the moonlight, with the woman she trusted most.

---

Outside, headlights cut through the rain, stopping just beyond the gate. A man stood beneath the downpour, his black coat drenched, but he didn’t move.

James Walker.

His expression was carved in stone, jaw tense as anger and pity battled within him. He had followed Emma from the villa—not to intrude, but because his heart wouldn’t let him leave. James knew too well the taste of betrayal. He had lived it, years ago. And seeing Emma now, her pain reopened an old wound he thought had long healed.

He knocked softly on the door. No answer. He waited, then knocked again, harder this time.

“Emma,” his deep voice called out steadily. “It’s me. James. Open the door.”

Only the rain replied. Then, after a few moments, the door opened a crack—revealing Emma’s pale face, her eyes swollen from crying.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was hoarse, weary, yet still edged with defiance. “I don’t want to talk. Especially not to anyone from the Smith family.”

James met her gaze calmly. “I’m not here as one of them tonight. I came because what happened to you… no one deserves that.”

Emma turned away, her lips trembling as she fought the tears threatening to fall again. “I don’t need your pity, James. I know what kind of men the Smiths are—arrogant, powerful, and always convinced they’re right.”

The words stung, but James didn’t argue. He simply looked at her—a woman standing on the edge of collapse yet still refusing to bow.

“May I come in?” he asked quietly.

She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But don’t think for a second I’ll defend your nephew.”

James stepped inside and closed the door gently behind him. The living room was dim, lit only by a floor lamp in the corner. On the table sat an untouched glass of wine and a small cake, now looking pitiful in the half-light.

“You prepared all this… for tonight?” James asked softly, glancing at the table.

Emma said nothing. She sank back onto the couch, staring blankly out the rain-streaked window. “I was going to surprise my husband. But apparently, he had a surprise of his own—and he couldn’t wait to show everyone.”

Her voice cracked. “Funny, isn’t it?”

James watched her for a moment, then sat across from her. “Emma,” he said gently. “Harry doesn’t deserve you.”

Her eyes shot up sharply. “You think those words will fix what just happened? I saw them, James! With my own eyes—my husband and my assistant, in the garden I decorated myself!”

Her voice rose, trembling with fury, but James didn’t interrupt. He let her speak—let her release the pain she’d been holding in.

Emma stood and walked toward the fireplace, staring into the faint, flickering flames. “I should’ve known. I was too caught up in my work, in my designs, in my deadlines… I thought Harry understood. I thought our love was strong enough.”

She wiped at her tears roughly. “But it wasn’t. It was all just his ego.”

James approached her slowly, but stopped a few steps behind. “Emma, don’t do that to yourself. This isn’t about your career. It’s about him. A weak man always looks for escape when he feels lonely. A real man doesn’t.”

She turned, her eyes red and glistening. “You talk as if you know everything.”

James was silent for a long moment before replying, his tone flat, heavy. “Because I’ve been where you are.”

Her breath caught.

James lowered his gaze. “I was betrayed too—by the woman I loved most. Just once, but it was enough. I lost everything that night. Since then, I swore I’d never tolerate betrayal again… even from my own blood.”

Silence fell. Only the sound of rain whispered through the window.

Emma’s body slackened, her anger softening. She sat back down, her expression dimmer now. “You said… you lost everything?”

James nodded. “The woman I loved. And a child I never got the chance to meet.”

His deep voice cracked slightly at the end.

For the first time that night, Emma saw something human behind the man’s stoic facade—pain, raw and familiar. A scar just like hers.

But she quickly turned away, unwilling to show weakness. “I don’t want to hear your sad story, James. I just want to be alone.”

James studied her face, then nodded once. “All right. But I’ll stay here until you’ve calmed down.”

Emma sighed in frustration but didn’t object. Deep down, a small part of her felt strangely comforted by his presence.

Minutes passed in silence. Then suddenly, Emma’s expression changed. She covered her mouth, bending forward as nausea surged through her.

“Emma?” James stepped forward instantly. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head, then hurried to the bathroom. The sound of retching echoed faintly. James hovered by the door, unsure whether to go in. After a while, the door opened slightly, revealing Emma’s pale, tear-streaked face.

“I’ll call a doctor,” James said quickly.

“No,” she murmured weakly, shaking her head. “I’m just… tired.”

He guided her gently back to the bedroom, arranging the pillows and pulling the blanket over her shoulders with quiet care. His hand hesitated at her cheek—cold, fragile, soft.

Emma opened her eyes halfway. “Why… do you care?” she whispered.

James looked at her for a long moment. “Because I know what it feels like to be completely alone after being betrayed.”

Her tears fell again—but this time, not from anger. Somehow, his words carried a sincerity she couldn’t deny.

“I’ll stay in the living room,” James said softly. “If you need anything, call me.”

Emma didn’t reply. Her eyes drifted shut, heavy with exhaustion and heartbreak.

James watched her for a moment—the peaceful face streaked with dried tears. Something stirred in his chest, something he shouldn’t feel. He ran a hand over his face, trying to push it away.

Then his gaze caught on something at the vanity table—a small white box tied with silver ribbon. He walked over, curiosity guiding his steps. When he opened it, his breath caught in his throat.

A pregnancy test.

Two red lines.

James froze, his jaw tightening as he turned to look at the sleeping woman.

“Emma…” he whispered softly. “You’re… pregnant?”

But she was already asleep, lost in dreams she couldn’t escape.

Outside, the rain poured harder, as if trying to bury the secret that had just been uncovered—

a secret that would change both their lives forever.