"Don't worry, the past is behind us. Didn't you say it was all just a misunderstanding? I'm not as immature as you think."

Marco let out a visible sigh of relief and personally walked me to the car.

"You two talk. I'll head home and wait for you."

On the way, my colleagues from the department gave me these looks—full of sympathy, like they all knew something I didn’t.

I ignored them. Once in the car, I pulled out my phone and scheduled an abortion for two days later.

Back home, I gathered everything Marco had given me over the past five years and burned it all. Every last bit of it.

The final flicker of flame had just died when I heard the delivery guy outside. Marco was listed as the buyer—but the package was addressed to Amina.

I signed for it.

When I opened the box, it was packed with premium baby products from all the big brands.

Almost immediately, Marco sent a message: [Polly, I ordered some office supplies but accidentally had them shipped home. Don’t open it—I’ll come by and take it to the station.]

I replied with an emoji. Then I resealed the box.

I had already made up my mind to leave. His lies weren’t even worth unraveling anymore.

That night, Marco claimed he was working late on a case and wouldn’t be coming home. Amina, on the other hand, posted something for the first time in ages. She was checked in at a luxury hotel downtown.

In the candid photo, the man’s shoulder insignia stood out his police rank. His wedding ring was gone, leaving behind a pale, sun-weathered mark on his finger.

In the reflection of a wine glass, the woman was beaming like spring, while the man looked at her with unmistakable tenderness.

As she’d hoped, I gave the post a like. Then, I started packing my things.

It wasn’t until the following afternoon that Marco finally messaged me. He told me to head over to the Fishers’ family estate.

The moment I stepped through the door, carrying nothing, his parents’ expressions turned cold.

“Marc’s been working himself to the bone at the station,” his mother snapped. “And you can’t even be bothered to bring a gift? Walk in empty-handed and already pulling an attitude—what kind of wife are you?”

Relatives sitting nearby all turned to stare—judgment in their eyes.

“You’ve been married five years and still think you’re some pampered Vogel heiress? Wake up. The Vogels went bankrupt five years ago! If Marc hadn’t emptied his savings to cover your family’s debts, God knows where you’d be—probably selling yourself on some street corner!”

“Like it or not, we’re your in-laws. Your parents are gone and we’re the only family you’ve got now. You don’t even know how to show respect? Anyone hearing this would think Marc begged you to marry him!”

Just as the words hung in the air, Amina walked through the door—arms full of expensive health supplements.

The Fishers’ faces lit up the moment they saw her, beaming as they rushed to greet her.

"Amy, you're here! The flight must've worn you out. Go upstairs and get some rest—we’ll have your sister-in-law cook something nice. It’s not often you come home."

"You always bring so much stuff—oh, you shouldn’t have! Your mom and I are getting old, we don’t need all these things. You and your husband should save your money for yourselves."

"Still, it shows how thoughtful you are, Amy. Not like some people, who walk in like they’re here to collect a debt. Her parents have been gone five years and she still won’t let it go—such a downer every time!"

Despite the protests, Mrs. Fisher’s hands didn’t stop as she eagerly accepted the gifts.

Amina giggled sweetly and looped her arm through her mother’s.

"Mom, don’t say that. The Vogels' case has been cold for five years—no killer, no justice. It’s understandable she’s still upset. She's hurting, let’s not pour salt on her wounds. We're family, after all—we share the same name, remember?"

“Oh! And I heard she’s pregnant too. Double blessings for the family today!”

"Don’t make her cook, Mom—Marco will get mad if he finds out you had her in the kitchen."

At the mention of Marco, Mrs. Fisher’s cheerful smile faltered for just a second.

"Got himself a wife and forgot his mother—that’s my son, alright!"

"I worry about him working cases day in and day out—and somehow, even that ends up being a crime!"

Once upon a time, I might’ve believed Marco stayed away from his parents’ house to protect me. But now that I knew the truth, I couldn’t even pretend to feel anything.

He didn’t avoid the family estate for my sake. He just didn’t want to face Amina as her brother-in-law. Didn’t want me bringing up that murder case in front of everyone and making her uncomfortable.

Around me, people chimed in, showering Amina with compliments—how well she’d kept her figure, how pregnancy didn’t seem to wear her down at all.

Meanwhile, I stood forgotten by the door.

The wind cut through the hallway just as Marco finally showed up, fashionably late. He wrapped an arm around me like everything was fine, gently brushed my forehead.

“Why are you still standing here? Did my parents scold you?”

The moment she saw her son walk in, Marco’s mom softened her tone.

"Oh, me? I wouldn’t dare scold the Vogel heiress! Your wife is far too precious for that. Come on, take her upstairs to rest."

Right then, Amina stepped in with a rehearsed sweetness. "Mom, I’ve already arranged a dinner from the hotel—should be delivered soon. You should relax and not let these things get to you."

The Fishers' relatives instantly rallied around her, going on about how thoughtful and mature Amina was. No one even looked in my direction.

Marco guided me upstairs to the bedroom, murmuring some excuse to his mother about me not feeling well—that I hadn’t meant to be disrespectful.

Not that it mattered. His relatives had never liked me and no one cared enough to even pretend anymore.

They all gathered around the mountain of gifts Amina had brought, taking turns gushing about what good fortune Mrs. Fisher had, having a daughter-in-law like her.

What a dutiful daughter-in-law she made.

Laughter and cheerful voices echoed through the cracks in the door, seeping into the room like smoke, pressing down on me until I could barely breathe.

I was just about to step out for some air when Amina suddenly appeared in front of me.

She looked me up and down, clearly savoring the sight of my pale face. Her smile grew sharper.

“Long time no see, old classmate,” she said sweetly. “What’s wrong? It’s only been five years—don’t recognize me anymore?”

“Actually, I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t brought me home back then, I never would’ve found the people I’d been looking for.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides as I stared her down.

“People you’d been looking for? What’s that supposed to mean? What the hell did my parents ever do to you—to deserve what you did to them?”

Her expression changed in an instant. The mask dropped. Her eyes were cold, gleaming with hatred.

“What did they do to me?” she hissed. “You should be asking what they didn’t do. If it weren’t for your precious parents, my dad’s company wouldn’t have gone under. He wouldn’t have been pushed to the edge. He wouldn’t have jumped off that building.”

“You destroyed everything I had. Everything. And now that I’m returning the favor, you’re the one who can’t take it?”

She stepped closer, her voice venomous.

“What’s wrong? Hard to breathe, seeing your parents’ killer standing here without a scratch? No punishment. No justice. Just me, living my best life. Oh—and I should really thank your fiancé and your husband. Without them, none of this would’ve been possible.”

She leaned in, smiling like it was all a game.

“You know, your dad was still begging for your life in his last moments. Kept asking me to spare his daughter. I recorded it, actually. Want to see it?”

“Then get on your knees and beg.”

The image of my parents’ brutal deaths flashed before my eyes. My vision burned red with rage. Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped her—hard.

The sharp crack of it echoed through the hallway.

Amina didn’t get angry. Instead, she laughed. She let the momentum of the slap carry her, collapsing dramatically to the floor.

Before I could even react, Marco came rushing in—his expression twisted with panic and fury—and drove his foot straight into my chest.

The force knocked the wind out of me. I hit the ground, coughing, stunned.

He didn’t look back at me. Didn’t ask if I was okay. He just scooped Amina into his arms like she was made of glass, shooting me a glare like I was a stranger—no, worse, a threat.

“Pauline, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you out of your mind?” he barked. “She’s pregnant, for God’s sake! What were you thinking?”

By now, the Fishers’ relatives had rushed over, eyes full of judgment, like they wanted to tear me apart.

Amina clung weakly to Marco’s shoulder, tears streaming as she whimpered through trembling lips.

“I’m sorry, Marc... I just—I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding five years ago. I didn’t think she’d hit me... I didn’t mean to upset her…”

“Forget it. Marcel broke off the engagement five years ago—we were the ones who wronged her back then. What happened today… just consider it compensation. Don’t blame your sister, Pauline.”

A sharp, burning pain spread from beneath me and I broke out in a cold sweat from the agony.

“A misunderstanding? You seriously have the nerve to call this a misunderstanding? Marco, what the hell happened five years ago? Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”

Panic flickered in Marco’s eyes, but he forced himself to speak.

“I’ve been investigating that case all along. I told you it had nothing to do with Amy. Why are you so determined to blame her? I’m a cop—don’t you trust me?”

“You didn’t even get the full story. What right did you have to lay a hand on Amy? Pauline, apologize to her!”

Before I could say anything, my mother-in-law stormed over and slapped me across the face.

“Bitch! Are you still trying to smear Amy’s name? My son’s a damn good investigator—everyone knows it. He said she’s innocent. Who the hell do you think you are to accuse her?”

“You’re just a parentless orphan. Do you really think you're that important?”

“If my son hadn’t saved you, you’d still be selling yourself in some cheap hotel to pay off your debt. Everyone knows businesspeople are crooks—your parents' deaths were probably karma for how ruthless they were.”

“Marc, forget her. Take Amy to the hospital. Don’t forget—she’s still pregnant.”

Marco didn’t even look back. He walked out holding Amy in his arms, leaving me behind like I meant nothing.

Five years of love vanished in an instant.

Blood slowly pooled beneath me, yet the Fishers—his parents—still kicked me out that very night. A stranger on the street ended up rushing me to the ER. But it was too late. I lost the baby.

Late that night, Marco messaged me.

[Polly, don’t overthink what happened tonight. I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Amy’s still my sister-in-law—after all, she’s married to Marcel. You hurt her and I… I just didn’t know how to explain it to him. Once she’s out of danger, I’ll apologize to you in person, okay? At your favorite restaurant.]

[Please don’t be angry. It’s not good for the baby. My parents only said those awful things because they were upset.]

So… he still remembered our child.

I forced a bitter smile, the corners of my mouth twitching with mockery.

[Sure. I’ll wait for you to come back.]

[Thank you, babe. Thank you for understanding.]

That same night, Amina posted her location at the hospital. In the photo, Marco sat slouched beside a hospital bed, worry etched all over his sleeping face—undeniable, even in rest.

***

The next morning, I signed the discharge papers.

I packed my bags and headed straight for the airport. While I was in the cab, Marco sent a pin for the restaurant.

[Babe, I’ve planned a little surprise for you. I’ll swing by the house to pick you up. Be good and wait for me.]

I opened Amina’s Moments feed. She had just posted again—two minutes ago.

In the video, he was gently feeding her plain porridge, careful not to spill a drop. There was a tenderness in his eyes I had never seen before.

Silently, I gave the video a like—then deleted every contact I had for both of them. Just before boarding the plane, I sent a formal whistleblower report to the chief of police, attaching the evidence I had secretly taken from Marco’s phone.

Then I mailed him the signed divorce papers.

***

At the restaurant, Marco was busy getting everything ready with help from his colleagues—setting the scene, arranging petals across the floor.

He kept checking his phone, waiting for a reply that never came. A creeping sense of unease began to settle over him.

Just as he was about to call me, a fellow officer rushed through the doors, still in uniform, face pale as a sheet.

“Captain Fisher! You need to get back to the station right now. Someone’s reported an issue with the Vogels' case. The chief’s flipping out trying to find you—something’s happened with Ms. Vogel too!”