Kevin paused for a second, then shrugged and kept eating with the same fork Molly had licked. Like it was no big deal.

I dropped my gaze, pretending I hadn’t noticed, but the glass reflection didn’t lie. I saw everything and it hit me like a punch to the gut.

Were they even trying to hide it anymore? Or were they so sure I wouldn’t say anything that they just didn’t care?

My phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence. It was a WhatsApp notification. [Sabrina, I checked with Dr. Leighton. Your symptoms are improving. The vitamins prescribed shouldn’t have side effects and you’ll feel less drowsy now.]

Kevin leaned over, concern plastered on his face. "Everything okay, honey?"

I forced a smile. "Yeah, fine." Picking up the pills in front of me, I popped them into my mouth and swallowed without a second thought.

He gave a soft, almost rehearsed smile. "Today is our wedding anniversary. I’ve got something to take care of first, but I’ll come back and pick you up later."

Before I could respond, Molly jumped in, her voice all sugar. "Kevin, I need to run some errands too. Mind giving me a ride?"

I stayed silent, just watching them head for the door. The moment it shut behind them, I changed clothes and followed.

In the underground garage, the air felt heavy, almost suffocating. I spotted them by my red Ferrari. Molly was clinging to Kevin’s arm, laughing at something only she found funny.

A couple walked by and Molly waved like she didn’t have a care in the world. "Mr. and Mrs. Liddel! Off somewhere fun?"

The woman smiled politely. "Just shopping for my sister’s birthday."

Molly nodded enthusiastically, her hand still on Kevin’s arm. "That’s so sweet! And Kevin’s been so amazing, too, taking care of someone with depression. It’s not easy, but he’s just the best."

Kevin gave a polite smile, like the whole thing wasn’t awkward at all. "It’s what you do for the people you love."

Molly beamed. "See? Isn’t my husband so great?"

Then she pulled out the keys to my Ferrari—my keys, with my little puppy pendant dangling from them. She hit the unlock button and the car’s lights flashed. It felt like the car itself was protesting.

I froze as they got into the car. Under the dim garage lights, Molly leaned toward him and their lips met. It wasn’t a quick peck. It wasn’t casual. It was full of passion, like they had all the time in the world.

My chest tightened as I stood there, the bitter taste of betrayal rising like bile. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. The pain and anger twisted together, leaving me completely hollow.

I used to believe him when he said we would grow old together. I held on to that dream like it was unshakable, but now, looking at this scene, it all felt like a cruel punchline to a bad joke.

He and Molly weren’t even trying to hide it anymore. They had been out there, soaking up everyone’s praise, acting like a perfect couple, while I was left at home, buried in depression.

Even today, our wedding anniversary, he kissed her with so much love it made me sick.

And me? What was I? Just some pitiful burden stuck at home, waiting for their scraps of attention.

What about his promises to me?

The days we scraped by together, promising to build something better?

And our baby?

I didn’t even remember how I got moving again. My head was spinning, my chest tight.

At some point, I opened the location-sharing app on my phone—the one he had insisted we use. He once said it was to keep me safe, to always know where I was. The irony of using it now to track him down wasn’t lost on me.

The app led me to our old house. The first place we called home. I could barely breathe as I pulled up, memories flooding back.

We had picked out the furniture together, spent entire weekends painting the walls and lovingly planned a nursery that never got to be used.

But now? It felt like a stranger’s house.

As I got there, I pushed the door open and froze. The living room was decked out like a romantic fairytale; pink balloons, rose petals, a cake with cheesy couple toppers, plates of food and candles.

And the kicker, there was a giant banner on the wall that read, [Molly, my wife, we will be together forever!]

My stomach churned.

My eyes dropped to the mess of clothes on the floor—his coat, her high heels, stockings—leading a trail to the bedroom door, left just slightly ajar.

And then I heard it. The laughter. The whispers. The sounds I didn’t want to hear.

I didn’t want to look, but I did anyway. Through the crack, I saw them. Twisted together, kissing like they couldn’t get enough of each other.

This time, they didn’t choose my bed. No, they picked the baby’s room, the one I had spent hours decorating.

I didn’t know whether to scream or laugh. Four years of being together and Kevin managed to turn me and our unborn child into the saddest joke.

He used to swear he loved me, begged me not to leave when things got hard. But now, here he was, bringing Molly to the home we built together, defiling the space we filled with memories.

They claimed this whole setup was for our wedding anniversary, but they had decided to start early—celebrating their love in secret, laughing in the face of everything I thought we stood for.

The images wouldn’t leave my head. Molly sprawled across the little bear I had picked for the baby, her smug grin plastered on her face.

Kevin, pressing into her, wearing the parent-child outfits I had once bought with so much excitement. It was all so absurd, so disgusting, I could barely breathe.

From the room, I heard Kevin’s voice, casual as ever. “Good thing I checked. Did you change her name to yours? Don’t do that again.”

And then Molly, with her sickly sweet tone, chimed in. “Kevin, come on! I love you so much. We’ll be together forever!”

I didn’t need to hear his response to know what came next. Heavy breathing. A bed creaking.

My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and hit record. I didn’t know why—proof, maybe? A way to hold onto my sanity.

Time blurred. Eventually, the noises stopped, replaced by the sound of labored breathing from the other side of the door. I couldn’t take any more. My legs moved on their own, carrying me out of the house and into the cold night air.

I didn’t stop walking. My mind raced, but my body stayed numb, moving forward on autopilot.

Somewhere along the way, it hit me—I couldn’t keep living like this. Kevin was long gone, even if his body still showed up at my door.

When I finally got home, the clock had just passed midnight. I stared at it, the silence in the room pressing down on me like a weight. I couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream. I just sat there, empty.

The sound of the door unlocking snapped me out of it. Kevin walked in, drenched in sweat, his face tense. Before I could say a word, he pulled me into a tight hug.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice soft and shaky. “I got stuck on the road. I’ll make it up to you, okay? We’ll celebrate later.”

I nodded, forcing a smile, the kind I couldn’t stand, the kind that felt fake.

"It’s fine, can you sign it?" I said, flipping through the document until I reached the signature page and handed it to him.

"What’s this about? Buying a car, or..." he trailed off, but his phone buzzed. He gave me a quick look before answering and I could hear Molly crying in the background.

He quickly covered the phone and gave me a guilty glance.

"It’s fine, just go ahead and buy it. I have a meeting... I probably won’t be back for a couple of days," he said, signing quickly and rushing out.

I took the paper, looked at his signature and let out a breath. It was strange, but I felt a weight lifting off me.

I hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did it feel like I was sneaking around, guilty for no reason?

I wanted to say goodbye properly, but then I realized I couldn’t. It felt better this way.

I contacted my friends and workers, getting rid of everything in the house as fast as I could; furniture, clothes, even the baby stuff.

Once it was all gone, I placed the ring and the divorce papers on the table and took a deep breath of relief.

Grabbing my suitcase, I took one last look at the house and left without a second thought.