At four months pregnant, I was drowning in relentless morning sickness.

After another round of heaving into the toilet, I stumbled out looking like death warmed over just as Lawson caught sight of me. I expected him to brush past me like always, so I was thrown when he handed me a towel, a flicker of something almost like concern in his eyes. But as he stepped closer, I caught it—the faint, lingering perfume of another woman clinging to his shirt.

Just as my fingers brushed the towel, he said, "Jazmine, we should get a divorce."

"There's a woman whose parents are pushing her to settle down, and I can't stand by and watch her end up with someone else."

"Don't worry, I'll still take care of you and the baby."

I had no fight left. I signed the papers without a word.

The boy who once pulled me out of the darkness was now a stranger. The road ahead stretched out empty and cold, and I'd have to walk it alone.

...

Leaving the courthouse, the divorce papers felt like a brick in my hand. Lawson seemed pleased by how easily I'd caved, reaching over to ruffle my hair like I was some kid.

"You're almost too obedient, you know that? Like a glass of plain water—bland, boring, no kick."

"But Lexi? She's a firecracker. Yesterday we had a little spat, and she clawed and scratched at me—still got the marks."

"But that's part of the fun, isn't it?"

I watched him trace those marks with a smirk, and the mental image of them together slammed into me. My stomach lurched. I braced myself against a tree and retched again.

When the nausea finally passed, tears spilled over, like I'd just sobbed my heart out.

Lawson, in an uncharacteristic show of decency, handed me a tissue, dabbing at the mess on my face. "Don't be upset. I'm not abandoning you or the baby."

His touch was so gentle—like a loving husband. A doting father. Pain stabbed through my chest as I shoved his hand away. "Lawson, drop the act."

"From now on, we're strangers. We go our separate ways."

He paused, then let out a dark chuckle. "Jazmine, in this relationship, you don't get to call the shots."

"When you were sixteen, your parents sold you for a lousy seventy bucks to some old creep. Who was it that saved you when you were at death's door?"

It was him.

Ten years ago, my parents tricked me into leaving school, tied me up, and tossed me onto some old man's bed. The money they got? Spent on a bicycle for my brother.

I fought so hard I bruised myself black and blue, staining the sheets with blood. Terrified, the old man didn't dare touch me again. But as my life slipped away, the blood loss became all too real.

Just when I thought that was it, Lawson burst in with my teacher. His hands were shaking as he scooped me up and rushed me to the hospital.

The doctor said if I'd arrived a few minutes later, I would've been gone.

From that day on, I never went back home. Whenever my parents tried to cause trouble, Lawson chased them off.

After high school, we both got into the same university far from home, cutting every tie with the past.

We shared a cramped apartment, split a can of soup that was nearly past its expiration date, and huddled together for warmth on a tiny bed in the dead of winter.

When he made his first big break, he got down on one knee with a ring: "Jazmine, marry me. I'll never let you suffer again. We'll be happy, grow old together, and never part!"

I clung to that promise, believing the darkness was gone for good.

But in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

The moment I found out I was pregnant, I rushed to Lawson's office, bursting with the news—only to find Lexi, wearing nothing but a man's shirt, draped all over Lawson.

In that instant, I was thrown into a blazing fire, every bit of my happiness reduced to ash. Caught off guard, Lawson frowned, shielding Lexi protectively as he barked, "Get out."

Three months passed, each day gnawing at my heart. I could feel myself coming apart at the seams.

I couldn't deny it—he had given me my life back, become my one and only light. But he had changed too, throwing away ten years for a woman he'd known only a few months.

As I wrestled with that painful truth, Lawson offered me a twisted kind of mercy:

"Jazmine, I don't expect you to repay me for saving your life in some grand way. Just stick around, have my kids, and do what I say."

"Don't worry, this little thrill is temporary. Once it burns out, we'll get married again."

My gaze hit the floor, my spirit sinking. "Is there no other way?"

"Well, there is."

He let out a cruel sneer. "Give up your life for me once, and we'll call it even. You dare?"

I said nothing.

My phone rang—a distinct ringtone that told me exactly who was calling.

Lawson's patience snapped, and he added hastily, "From now on, this is Lexi's home. Pack your things and move back to our old place."

A damp, crumbling apartment with mold creeping up the walls and a leaky roof that seemed like it might cave in any second.

With those words, he walked off without a backward glance.

The cold wind numbed me as I stood there, feeling once again like the light in my life was dying out.

After what felt like an eternity, I dialed a number.

When I got home, I started packing my suitcase.

After five years of calling this place home, traces of my life were everywhere—yet somehow, there wasn’t much worth taking with me.

Once I finished packing, I drifted back to the living room. My gaze swept over every corner, and for a moment, I got lost in memories.

Weekends curled up on the couch with Lawson, binging rom-coms. Lounging on the balcony in the sunlight. Building a tiny rooftop garden, planting roses—the ultimate symbol of romance and love...

The roses would bloom soon, but I knew I wouldn’t be here to see them.

Regret clawed at my chest as I picked up the watering can for the last time and cleared away the dead leaves one final time. When I finished, exhaustion hit me, and I sank into the rocking chair. I must have dozed off.

When I woke up, shouts and cheers echoed from downstairs. My foggy brain couldn’t process it at first, but instinct pulled me to my feet to see what was going on.

What I saw made my heart lurch.

Lawson had Lexi in his arms, bending her backward for a passionate kiss. The crowd around them went wild—whistling, hollering, egging them on.

I stood frozen in the corner, unable to move for what felt like an eternity—until someone blurted out, "Jazmine?!"

Every head snapped toward me—including Lawson’s. He frowned, about to say something, but Lexi cut him off.

She shot back at whoever had spoken, "Why are you yelling? I’m his fiancée now. She’s the unwanted one."

Her words were sharp, dripping with venom. But Lawson just soothed her gently. "Okay, okay, today marks the start of our life together—don’t let irrelevant people ruin it."

Once she was calmed down, he turned to me with a dismissive look. "Didn’t I tell you to move out? Why are you still here?"

I instinctively apologized. "Sorry. I’m leaving now."

But as I went to grab my suitcase, someone blocked my path.

Lexi stood in front of me, smug and self-assured. "This is my house now. You think you can just come and go as you please?"

A sinking feeling in my gut told me what was coming next. "So what exactly do you want?"

She flashed a sly smile. "Lawson told me you’re quite the cook. Turns out, we’re short a chef for tonight’s party."

Cooking was brutal—especially when you're pregnant and running on fumes. With nearly twenty guests to feed, I was on my own in that kitchen, my body heavy and weak. The task hung over me like a mountain, promising to drain every last ounce of my strength, and maybe even send me to the floor. I cast a desperate glance at Lawson, silently pleading for help. But he played oblivious, his tone firm. "Just tell us what you want to eat, and I'll have Kyren deliver the ingredients."

Lexi lit up at that, planting a joyful kiss on his cheek. "You're amazing, Lawson!"

She jumped right into taking orders, her voice bright and chirpy. "One pulled pork sandwich!" "A serving of shrimp linguine!" "And a bowl of clam chowder!"

While the cheerful chaos buzzed around them, I felt like an outsider, trapped in my own skin, the walls closing in inch by inch.

My old burn scars throbbed, dragging me back to another time. Back then, we were broke—scraping pennies just to get by. Eating out? A luxury we never allowed ourselves. So I cooked every single day, packing Lawson's lunches and making sure he was fed. He'd look so satisfied, pulling me close and saying, "Your cooking is out of this world—nothing else comes close."

That was until a boiling pot tipped over my hand, blistering my skin in seconds. We couldn't afford burn cream, so Lawson brought home some ice from a nearby store and stayed up all night, nursing me through the worst of it.

My hand eventually healed, but the ugly scars stayed.

Riddled with guilt, he beat himself up over it, tearfully vowing, "I'm sorry I couldn't be better. One day, when I make it big, you won't have to set foot in a kitchen again. You'll have the finest of everything."

But now? All of that felt like ancient history—erased, as if it had never happened.

The ingredients arrived right on time, and Lawson's cold stare drove me toward the kitchen. Bitterness coated my mouth, dry and sharp. I swallowed it down. I owed him this much, didn't I? So I resigned myself to pay.

It had been ages since I'd held a knife properly. No surprise, I nicked myself within the first few minutes of chopping vegetables. I ignored the sting, running my hands under cold water before pushing on. By the time I finished, my hands were crisscrossed with fresh cuts—some still oozing red. I was drained to the bone, every muscle screaming for rest. I forced the words through cracked lips: "May I leave now?"

Finally, a flicker of concern crossed Lawson's face. He started to say something—but Lexi cut him off, lifting a forkful of food to his mouth. He waved a hand dismissively and told Kyren to take me home.

When we pulled up to my temporary place, Kyren lingered at the door. Then he handed me an expensive-looking tube of ointment. "Mr. Simmons asked me to give you this. It'll help with the scarring."

I blinked, confused for a moment. Then I shook my head. "That's not necessary."