From Here, No More Us

First thing Leah Labelle did after Andrew Fillion's funeral? Ask her husband Ian for a divorce.

Why? Because Ian's entire family thought the perfect way to honor his dead brother was to knock up the widow. Naturally.

"My parents are threatening to hang themselves or starve, Leah. What was I supposed to do? It's just IVF with Cecilia—we're not even doing anything. Why are you making this a divorce thing?"

Leah shut her eyes. Her chest cracked open, and the tears she'd been holding finally broke free.

"Ian, we're MARRIED. You seriously don't think this is next-level insane?"

Her husband was about to have a baby with someone else. But sure—she was the crazy one.

Harbor City, Carmoria

Ian froze. Leah was crying—he almost reached for her. Then his phone buzzed.

"Ian, get back here right now! Cecilia just swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills—she's trying to kill herself!"

"What?!"

He slammed the brakes, swerved onto the shoulder.

"Leah, wait at the rest stop. I'll be right back."

Rain pounded the windshield. She didn't move.

Next thing—he was yanking her seatbelt off, shoving her into the storm.

"This isn't the time for your drama! Someone's actually dying—why do you have to be so selfish?"

She hit the ground hard. Mud soaked her dress. Rain slapped her face.

Then he was gone.

Her heart? Torched.

Flashes of the past hit her hard.

First time? Rumors at school. Everyone iced her out—until Ian tracked down the person who started it and shut it down.

Second? Some creep of a landlord tried something. Ian beat him up and moved her out that same night.

Third? Some unstable guy shoved her into a frozen lake. Ian didn't even hesitate—just dove in and yanked her back from the edge.

Everyone used to say Leah was Ian's whole world.

From girlfriend to wife, she really thought they'd make it. Grow old.

Three years later? This.

She walked the shoulder, rain hammering down. Her dress clung to her skin. Hair plastered to her neck. Heels tore her ankles raw.

By the time she made it home, it was past midnight.

She reached for the door—then heard Ian's voice inside, on speaker.

"Ian, you're really doing IVF with Cecilia? Guess that childhood dream's finally happening, huh!"

"Dude, you've been into her forever. Sucks she was into your brother. We all thought you'd never get a shot. Screw IVF—just go for it already!"

"Shut up," Ian muttered. Then softer, "She's still grieving. Don't talk like that. But... I hope our kid looks like her."

Laughter exploded on the other end.

"If we'd known, you could've skipped all those dumb stunts—the fake rumors, the sketchy landlord, the nutcase at the lake. Why bother with the stand-in when the real deal was always better?"

The world tilted.

Leah gripped the doorknob like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

So that was it.

No wonder that classmate who ruined her got a random scholarship.

No wonder the creep landlord never called the cops—and even handed back her deposit after getting wrecked.

No wonder no one reported the lake incident.

No wonder, the first time she met the Fillions, they said she looked like Cecilia... joked their family had a "type."

It was all Ian. Every single piece, planned.

Her chest felt crushed. She could barely breathe. Tears slid down, silent.

Her phone buzzed. She answered on autopilot.

"Leah, have you reconsidered Maestro Elio Vezzaro? He's absolutely the right choice! The deadline's in seven days. You're too talented to let this go!"

Staring at the door, Leah wiped her tears with shaky fingers.

"Prof. Calvo, you don't have to say more. I'll go."