The next morning, I woke up alone. The candles from the night before had long melted down to stubs, and the wine sat untouched on the table, its once festive presence now a cruel reminder of how the evening had turned out. My heart sank as I looked around the dining room, taking in the aftermath of my failed celebration.

Rozen never came home.

I reached for my phone, hoping to see a message from him—an explanation, something—but there was nothing. He hadn’t even bothered to call, didn’t know, or maybe didn’t care, that our house had nearly gone up in flames because of my frustrations at him. I had caught it just in time, but the scorch marks on the tablecloth remained just like the scars this night had left on my heart.

Rozen hadn’t just chosen to stay away; he’d chosen to be with her—Thalia. Ever since she reappeared in our lives, flaunting her presence, I had felt the shift between us. Rozen had become distant, distracted, always finding excuses to be out of the house. I thought we were trying for a baby together, but now I realized he had been giving a part of himself to her.

This was my breaking point.

I couldn’t bring a child into this, into a life filled with lies and neglect. I felt utterly trapped, and the thought of carrying his child, knowing that he was elsewhere—possibly helping Thalia bring a baby into the world—made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t.

Without thinking, I made my decision.

I called the hospital and booked an appointment. The idea of ending the pregnancy weighed heavily on me, but I had to free myself from this pain. I couldn’t carry this child knowing Rozen didn’t truly care about us—about me. It was too much to bear.

I arrived at the hospital later that morning, my mind clouded with anger and grief. As I walked through the doors, every step felt like a betrayal to myself, but I couldn’t stop. The world blurred around me, the sterile smell of disinfectant assaulting my senses. All I wanted was to end this chapter of my life.

But then, as I rounded the corner toward the reception desk, I froze. There they were—Rozen and Thalia, standing together, too close for comfort. They hadn’t seen me yet, but the sight of them was enough to send a rush of nausea through me. Thalia was glowing, her hands protectively cradling her stomach. Rozen stood beside her, looking… calm. Supportive. Like her husband, not mine.