A woman standing with a man | Source: Midjourney
After losing my baby, I found out my husband was my sister’s future baby’s father — karma surfaced for them not long after.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It’s true.”
“How long?” I whispered.
“Does it matter?” Delaney asked.
“How. Long.”
Mason finally looked at me. “Six months.”
Six months. While I was grieving the loss of our unborn child and our combined dreams.
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
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“I loved you,” I said, and my voice broke on the words.
“I know,” Mason said. “But Oakley… after the miscarriage, after what the doctor said…”
“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “Don’t you dare.”
“You can’t carry another baby,” he continued anyway. “The doctor said the complications from the miscarriage made it impossible. I want to be a father, Oakley. Delaney can give me that.”
The cruelty of it stole my breath. I’d lost our child, my body had betrayed me, and now he was using it as justification for destroying our marriage.
A sad woman covering her face | Source: Pexels
A sad woman covering her face | Source: Pexels
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“So what? I’m broken, so you traded me in?”
“Don’t make this dramatic,” Delaney said. “We’re trying to be adults about this.”
Mason reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. He held it out to me.
“What is that?”
“Divorce papers. I’ve already signed them.”
I took the envelope with shaking hands. Around us, the party had gone completely silent. Everyone was watching. My mother stood by the dessert table with her hand over her mouth. My father looked like he wanted to kill someone.
“This is reality, Oakley,” Delaney said softly. “Time to deal with it.”
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A person holding an envelope | Source: Freepik
A person holding an envelope | Source: Freepik
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I looked at my sister. At the man I’d promised to love forever. At the life they’d built on the ruins of mine.
Then I turned and walked away.
I don’t remember driving home. One minute I was at the party, the next I was sitting in my driveway, staring at our house. Mason’s house now, I guess.
Inside, I destroyed every wedding photo we had. I ripped our marriage certificate in half. I threw his clothes off the balcony and into the yard. When I ran out of things to destroy, I just sat on the kitchen floor and cried until there was nothing left.
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A woman crying | Source: Unsplash
A woman crying | Source: Unsplash
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My phone rang. My mother. I didn’t answer.
It rang again. My father. I ignored it.
Text messages poured in. Cousins, friends, people I hadn’t talked to in years, were all suddenly very concerned about whether I was okay.
I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be okay again.
A woman holding her phone | Source: Unsplash
A woman holding her phone | Source: Unsplash
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Mason didn’t come home that night. He had probably already moved into Delaney’s place, playing house with her and the baby.
I cried myself to sleep on the couch, still wearing the dress I’d worn to the party.
The next morning, my phone woke me up. It was buzzing so violently it fell off the coffee table.
I grabbed it, squinting at the screen… 37 missed calls and 62 text messages.
“What the hell?” I muttered, scrolling through them.
They were all asking the same thing: Had I seen the news? Was I watching? Did I know?
Close-up cropped shot of a woman holding her phone | Source: Unsplash
Close-up cropped shot of a woman holding her phone | Source: Unsplash
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I turned on the TV and flipped to the local news station.
The headline at the bottom of the screen made my heart stop: “House Fire in Elmwood Leaves Two Homeless, One Hospitalized.”
The camera showed a house I recognized. Delaney’s house. Or what was left of it.
The entire second floor was gutted. Black scorch marks streaked the white siding. Firefighters were still spraying water on the smoking remains.
A building on fire | Source: Unsplash
A building on fire | Source: Unsplash
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“According to witnesses,” the reporter said, “the fire started around 2 a.m. Officials believe a cigarette may have been left burning in an upstairs bedroom. The two occupants, who have not been publicly identified, escaped with minor injuries, but one of them has been hospitalized due to complications.”
My phone rang. Rachel.
“Are you watching this?” she asked the second I answered.
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