All Chapters of MY UNDOING: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

DAMIEN I was sitting in this swanky little restaurant about an hour from my office, dressed in a sharp suit, hair perfectly in place, looking like I had my life together — and for what? For the client to be thirty minutes late. Fine. I could do thirty minutes. I opened my laptop, tried to focus, made a few notes, and started zoning into some semblance of productivity. Maybe I could salvage this hour. Maybe I could breathe. Then my phone buzzed. Client canceled. Just like that. Gone. Vanished. Poof. I slammed the laptop shut, my jaw tight. Seriously? What kind of professional move is that? I’d rearranged my whole damn schedule for this meeting. I was pissed — no, not just pissed — I was fuming. Every muscle in my body tensed. My chair scraped against the floor as I shoved back, muttering under my breath. I was about to storm out when something caught my eye outside the window. A car pulled up. And there she was. Macey. Stepping out like sunshine itself had decided to take human

MACEY “What the hell, Zinna?” I blurted, my voice sharper than I intended. “You told me he wasn’t home.” Zinna just gave this lazy shrug, like she couldn’t care less. “Guess I was wrong,” she said flatly, with no hint of guilt in her tone. Then, like she hadn’t just lied straight to my face, she brushed past me, her perfume lingering in the air as she walked out the door. I stood there frozen for a moment, my mind scrambling to catch up with what had just happened. My heart was still racing when I heard footsteps behind me. Damien stepped out from the hallway, his hair slightly messy, wearing that same calm expression that somehow made everything around him slow down. His brows drew together, confusion flickering across his face. “What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes darting between me and the door Zinna had just walked out of. I shook my head quickly, forcing my throat to work. “Nothing,” I said, but the word came out too fast, too soft. My chest felt tight, like the truth was pr

MACEY I woke up the next morning feeling like absolute death. My stomach churned before I was even fully conscious, that awful twisting feeling that warned me something terrible was about to happen. For a few seconds, I just lay there, trying to breathe through it. Maybe if I didn’t move, it would go away. It didn’t. I groaned, rolled to my side, and before I could even think twice, I was on my feet—well, kind of. Half stumbling, half tripping—making a beeline straight to the bathroom. The moment I got there, I didn’t even have time to shut the door. I fell to my knees and barely managed to lift the toilet lid before I started throwing up. It was bad. The kind of bad where you swear you’re throwing up your entire insides. I heard footsteps a second later—quick, heavy ones—and then Damien’s voice, low and urgent. “Mace?” I barely managed to lift my head before another wave hit. He knelt beside me, one hand holding my hair back, the other rubbing slow circles on my back. “Hey, he

MACEY The car ride home was the quietest thing I’d ever lived through. Not even the hum of the engine could fill it. Damien kept his eyes on the road, both hands gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. The silence between us wasn’t angry; it was heavy. Too heavy. I wanted to say something, anything, but every word that formed in my throat felt useless. My chest still ached from the scene at the hospital. I’d said things I shouldn’t have, things I didn’t even mean. But they were true, weren’t they? He didn’t love me. He never said it. So how could he love a baby? I turned my face toward the window and watched the streetlights pass in streaks of gold. My reflection stared back at me, eyes red and puffy, lips pressed together so tight they hurt. I didn’t even try to hide it anymore. There was no point pretending I was okay. I glanced at him once, maybe twice, hoping he’d look at me. He didn’t. Not once. By the time we pulled up to his place, the tensi

MACEY I woke slowly. It was so late already, the breeze creeping through the blinds painting stripes across the bedroom floor. For a second, I felt almost normal, almost like the chaos outside didn’t exist. My limbs were heavy, my mind foggy, and for a brief moment, I let myself think maybe the world could just wait while I collected myself. Then I noticed her. A woman was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at me with a gentle, almost maternal smile. My heart jumped into my throat. Panic surged through me, and I bolted upright, my hands gripping the sheets for balance. “Who are you?” I demanded, my voice shaking more than I intended. The woman’s smile didn’t falter. Her eyes were kind, warm, and calm. “My name’s Melissa,” she said softly, her voice steady and unthreatening. Melissa. The name barely registered before the familiar pulse of fear washed over me. Melissa. Who was she? Why was she here? My chest tightened as my eyes darted frantically around the room. The