I told Marcus I had a job—but I didn't.
It was a weak excuse for leaving, and I think we all knew it. Him. Tess. Me.
All I did was run.
Run from the shame of being left by the man I'd loved my entire adult life—left so he could ride off into the sunset with my friend.
So now it was time to actually find a job. Hopefully something before I started showing too much—before someone decided a pregnant woman was too much of a liability.
"I hear the hospital's always hiring," Tess says casually, scrolling through yet another dating app with one hand and eating cereal with the other.
I was eating too. Surprisingly, my baby had been very kind to me. No morning sickness at all. I wouldn't even know what it felt like unless we're counting the hangovers after a wild night with the girls…
"I don't know about working twenty-hour shifts, running around on my feet while trying to grow a human," I reply. "If this was before I found out I was pregnant, maybe. But now? I need something easier—at least physically."
Tess nods, but her eyes stay locked on her screen.
"I think I'll just drop off my resume at every doctor's office I can find," I continue. "Just in case they're hiring, or for when they are. And I hope that's soon, because your paycheck is not going to cut it."
That gets her attention. She glares at me long enough for her phone to go dark. Victory.
"This money is fine for little champ in there," she retorts, gesturing at my belly. "Maybe not for you. You're used to the high life. I could never afford you. And I'm not about to compete with Marcus's bank account."
I roll my eyes. She's not wrong.
My closet is a graveyard of designer pieces and subtle luxury—clothes only the fashion-literate could identify, not the loud flashy labels. That was Marcus's world. He dressed me to match it. Regal. Understated. Expensive.
I wore it all for love.
"Let's sell them," I say.
Tess gasps, drops her spoon, and clutches her chest like I just suggested sacrificing a firstborn.
"How dare you?" she cries. "You'll never afford clothes like that again. But also… why didn't I think of this first?! We're gonna make a fortune. Little champ's gonna have a trust fund!"
Her words stop me.
Trust fund.
Jessica flashes in my mind.
Was she pregnant?
Did she trap him? Or were we both pawns in the same twisted game?
What was her endgame—if she even had one?
And how am I supposed to tell Marcus about this baby now?
Would he even believe me? Or would he think I'm trying to pull a fast one?
But if I don't tell him… this child grows up without a father. And that would be my decision. My fault.
That's not fair. Not to my child.
Even if Jessica's with him now, even if she got the ring, her child—if there is one—would deserve the same as mine.
"I need to tell him," I say.
Tess gives me a look. That look. The one I ran away from. The same one I feared seeing in everyone's eyes back home. The look that says, poor thing, she got left. The look that says, shame.
"I'll leave you to it, then. I gotta head to work anyway," she says, kissing my forehead. "Get the clothes out. Pick what you want to keep and I'll drive the rest to the second-hand store after my shift."
The door closes behind her.
I stare at my phone for a while before finally dialing his number.
It rings. Once. Twice. Five times. I'm about to hang up when someone answers.
"Honestly, Gina. Give up already. He's married. There's not much you can do at this point."
Jessica.
My heart drops—and then, it hardens.
I hear Marcus's voice in the background. "Jessica, give me my phone."
Then he's on the line.
"Hello? Gina, are you still there? I'm so sorry. I don't know why she's being so rude. Are you okay? Do you need help?"
A wave of bitterness and spite floods through me. I don't know who answers, but she sounds like me. Stronger.
"Yes. I need your help. And I'll need it until I can stand on my own two feet."
"I'll make a transfer now," he replies without hesitation. "And every two weeks after that until you tell me to stop. I'll do it for the rest of my life if you'll allow me. But I know you won't. So, whenever you say stop, I promise I'll respect it."
"Thank you. That'll be all. And tell Jessica I won't bother you again."
He laughs—that laugh. The one I've known for years. It used to soothe me. Today, it just feels distant. Past tense. Something I've outgrown.
"I hope one day you'll tell me where you are," he says. "Maybe we could grab coffee. Talk things through. Get some closure. You know… we never really broke up."
I almost laugh.
"Watching you get married was you breaking up with me, Marcus," I say calmly. "That was you breaking every promise you ever made. You didn't even have the decency to tell me what was going on. You left me to find out with the rest of the world. You humiliated me.
And now you want closure?
You'll get that in the form of your monthly payments. That's all you get. That's what helps me sleep at night—not your explanations. Not your guilt.
Goodbye, Marcus."
And I hang up.
The nerve of this guy.