Thomas came home not long after I arrived.

"Marilyn, what's the point of humiliating me like that?"

My hand paused mid-pour, an indescribable ache surging through my chest.

"What about me?"

"Thomas, all these years you've paraded your women right out in the open. Have you ever once spared me any dignity?"

I closed my eyes, fighting to hold myself together.

But the tears still slipped down my cheeks, and my voice turned raw and choked.

"Alright, alright, babe. Seeing you cry makes my heart ache too."

"What man in our circle doesn't have a little fun on the side? It's all physical, nothing emotional. What's the point of getting jealous over them?"

"Don't worry—once I get bored with this one, I'll take a break for a while. Okay?"

Thomas pulled me close, wrapping his arms tightly around me.

He fell into his usual routine of soothing me, telling me I was his only wife, that none of those other women could ever take my place.

Before, that would have been enough to calm me down.

Not this time.

"Babe, has your belly gotten flatter?"

Thomas sensed something was off and bent down to touch my stomach.

I pulled away again.

"It's nothing. I skipped dinner."

He didn't question it. He just smiled and tapped my nose. "You're a grown woman, and you still get so jealous."

"Alright, I'll have Deidre Chavez make you something you like."

After Thomas left, my hand drifted to my flat stomach, trembling slightly.

The baby was already gone.

The night I saw Bernice at that bus stop, I'd already scheduled the procedure.

When I went to the police station to pay the fine, I had just gotten off the operating table.

A sharp ringtone shattered the silence.

I stared at the familiar number, my brow furrowing.

After a deep breath, I answered.

"Hello, Mom—"

It was Thomas's mother.

Before I could finish, a torrent of curses came crashing through.

"You just let Thomas's scandal sit on the trending page for three days? Do you have any idea how much damage this does to the company?"

"I don't care what you're thinking—get it taken down now!"

She hung up before I could say a word, seething with fury.

My marriage to Thomas had never been a match of equals, but his family couldn't overrule him.

Still, in seven years, I had never once earned the Delgados' approval.

I scrolled through my phone and called the PR firm we worked with, instructing them to bury the trending story.

"Oh, and those press releases I sent you—hold them for three days."

In three days, Thomas and I would go our separate ways.

The next morning, Thomas left early.

I knew where he was going. To pick up Bernice.

For the past two weeks, she'd been riding to work in his car.

That was why Thomas couldn't spare even a single hour to come with me to a prenatal checkup.

While he was at the office, I slipped out to meet some friends—and to say my goodbyes.

"This time it's real?"

"Marilyn, are you sure about this?"

They could hardly believe it. After all, I'd filed for divorce three times and taken him back every single time.

"I've already booked my flight home. I leave in three days."

I watched the foam dissolve slowly in my coffee cup, murmuring half to myself:

"I should have woken up a long time ago. He's not the same Thomas he was at eighteen."

Not the boy who kept soft candies in his pocket just to cheer me up. Not the one who defied his entire family for me.

Seven years. Everything had changed.

Only I had stayed frozen in place, clinging to a version of us that no longer existed.

After saying goodbye to my friends one by one, I was about to get up when I ran straight into someone.

It was Bernice.

"Mrs. Delgado, I wanted to explain—Mr. Delgado and I really aren't what you think."

"I've only been at the company for two weeks, and besides, I'm already married."

Bernice held up her right hand, the diamond on her ring finger catching the light.

I let out a soft laugh, taking my time to look her over.

"You certainly don't hold back, Miss Henson. Fresh out of college and already treating yourself to six-figure handbags and five-figure outfits."

"And that necklace around your neck—that wasn't cheap either, was it?"

Her face flushed instantly. She stammered for a long moment, unable to get a single word out.

I walked past her, giving her shoulder a light pat.

"I've met plenty of women like you."

"You claim there's nothing between you and Thomas, yet you accept everything he gives you—the gifts, the special treatment. You've never once said no, have you?"

Maybe I'd gone too far. Or maybe I'd struck a nerve.

She snapped.

Bernice seized my wrist in a death grip. "You can look down on me all you want, but I won't let you insult me."

"Insult?" I met her gaze. "The fact that you can stand here and say that to my face—that's the insult."

My eyes swept over her, cold and unhurried. Then I shook her off.

Bernice's face went white. She let out a sharp cry and stumbled backward.

Thomas appeared out of nowhere, catching her before she fell.

"Marilyn, who told you to put your hands on her?"

"Apologize. Now."

His eyes were frigid, edged with fury. In that moment, I heard something inside me shatter.

I lowered my gaze and smoothed my sleeve. "My apologies, Miss Henson."

Then I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Bernice's shrill voice rang out. She pushed Thomas away, insisting over and over that there was nothing between them, telling him to stay away from her.

I almost laughed. The performance playing out behind me was nothing short of absurd.

That evening, Thomas came home.

On the coffee table lay a single sheet of paper.

Divorce papers. Already signed—by me.

Thomas glanced at it and actually laughed. He picked up the document and followed me into the bedroom.

"Marilyn, I've spoiled you too much over the years. Made you too naive."

"Divorce me, and what do you get? Do you have any idea how hard it is to find work out there? Without me, you wouldn't survive a day."

I turned to face him, holding his gaze without flinching.

"I was naive. That's the only reason I fell for your lies back then."

Thomas hurled the papers aside and dropped onto the sofa.

He crossed his legs, rubbing the crease between his brows with a smirk. "Marilyn, don't be like this."

"What we had was real. And I still love you now."

"But a lifetime is long. Loving only one person... that's asking too much."

He wasn't wrong.

I believed him.

But we weren't the same. What I'd always wanted was something pure.

"Thomas, I'm not playing games either."

"I want this divorce. Sign the papers, and we can part on good terms."

He opened his mouth to say something, but his phone cut him off—a shrill, urgent ring.

A woman was crying on the other end. He shot to his feet, his expression shifting to barely contained panic as he turned toward the door.

I stepped into his path. "Sign it, and you can go."

Thomas's brow furrowed. With an impatient huff, he snatched the pen and scrawled his name.

"Marilyn, this little hard-to-get routine of yours—you really never get tired of it, do you?"

The door slammed shut.

The house went dark and cold. Dead silent.

Thomas sped all the way to Bernice's place. The moment he knocked, the door flew open and a woman crashed into his arms.

"Mr. Delgado!"

Thomas felt the softness in his arms and looked down at the woman's tear-streaked face, her pitiful expression making his grip tighten instinctively.

"What happened?"

"Did he hit you? Where is he?"

Bernice shook her head through her tears. "He's gone. We're done—completely."

The moment Thomas heard this, his expression shifted. His arms loosened without him realizing it.

Bernice led him inside. The wall where her wedding photo had hung was bare—just empty pin holes remained. She'd taken it down deliberately.

Thomas scanned the apartment. Every trace of her boyfriend had been erased.

"Mr. Delgado..." Bernice straddled his lap, her expression coy and inviting. "Do you still want me?"

But Thomas felt nothing.

He frowned slightly. "You're divorced?"

Bernice's eyes glistened with unshed tears. Her pale arms wound around his neck.

"You... didn't want me to leave him?"

Something struck Thomas's chest like a blow. For a disorienting moment, he thought of an eighteen-year-old girl.

He pushed Bernice off. "Sorry. My wife's waiting for me at home."

Bernice froze, staring in disbelief as Thomas straightened his clothes and walked out without a backward glance.

"Thomas Delgado!"

Her furious shriek echoed behind him. He didn't turn around. The elevator doors had just opened when his phone rang.

"Mr. Delgado, we have a problem. Posts about you and Bernice are spreading online—"

Thomas jabbed the elevator button, irritation flaring. "Handle it with Marilyn. Isn't this always her job?"

"Sir, we can't reach Mrs. Delgado. Her phone is off..."

A cold premonition settled in his gut. He hung up and dialed Marilyn's number.

The number you have dialed is no longer in service.

He raced home. But the moment he opened the door, he went still.

The apartment was stripped bare of her presence. Every trace of Marilyn—gone.

Beneath the divorce papers lay a single hospital document. Four words seared into his vision like needles:

TERMINATION OF PREGNANCY

"She... terminated it?"

How could she not want the baby?