"Aiden just mistook someone else for you, didn't he? What are you nitpicking about? You've known each other for more than twenty years, you were just one step away from getting married, can't you forgive him?"
"Besides, even if Aiden was faking it and really cheated, that's because you're not good enough. Isn't there a saying online about why the newcomer ends up on top? Isn't that because you don't fight or compete!"
"Alright, you and Aiden just be good together. After a while, get married and then have a kid, and everything will go smoothly. I'm only advising you like this because I'm your best friend. Otherwise, who would even care about you!"
……
I turned off the phone that kept vibrating and stared blankly at the dried-up tree stump outside the window.
I thought about a lot.
From when we met to graduation to our almost-married life.
From blaming Aiden to blaming myself.
From being glued to him 24/7, to tailing him to the biggest singles bar in the city, where he casually pointed at a stranger and told me to get a marriage license with that man.
That night, they played games for hours.
The wildest one was making a random man and woman at the bar go get legally married.
I happened to be standing in the corner he pointed at.
He didn't recognize me.
I didn't move. Aiden pulled out a black card and gestured toward a man sitting alone in the shadows, pouring himself a drink.
"Go get a license, and all of this is yours."
Twenty million dollars for a marriage certificate.
Even split down the middle, it would be enough to pay back every cent my adoptive parents had spent on me over the years.
The table was covered with ID cards—everyone had tossed theirs in for the game.
Mine was tucked right under Aiden's.
He was too drunk to notice.
His assistant recognized me and hurried over, trying to smooth things over, tactfully explaining that Aiden was wasted and didn't mean it.
I nodded. Then, amid the cheering crowd, I reached my hand out to the man Aiden had pointed to.
"Want to get married?"
At dawn, morning light fell across the marriage certificate in my arms.
I blinked my dry eyes.
The bedroom door opened. Aiden walked in, sobered up now, a coat draped over his shoulders.
"Stop being mad. Those women mean nothing to me. If I hadn't mistaken them for you, I wouldn't have even looked at them."
"If you really don't believe me, let's go to the hospital for a premarital checkup, alright? Come on."
I agreed—but not for the reason he thought.
An abortion.
I was married to someone else now. I couldn't keep his child.
And while I was at it, I'd make things clear and cut all ties.
In the passenger seat, he'd prepared motion-sickness patches and hot water for me, like always.
Spare slippers sat in the trunk so I could change when my feet got tired.
Except the patches were all cutesy cartoon designs now, and the slippers were a size too small—like they'd been bought for some other girl.
We breezed through the hospital entrance without a hitch.
But when it came time to fill out forms, he hit a wall. He tried to write down my phone number.
After mumbling to himself for a while, he still couldn't remember it. He scrolled through his endless contact list for ages without finding it, and finally just wrote down his own number instead.
"Don't worry—as soon as the results come out, I'll show you!"
I didn't care. I wasn't even his partner anymore. He didn't need to show me anything.
"Aiden, I'm married. No need to show me."
By the time I finished speaking, he'd already turned and walked into the exam room. I don't know if he heard me.
Whatever. There's plenty of time ahead. He'll find out sooner or later.
My turn came.
Less than twelve weeks pregnant—I registered with gynecology.
The doctor looked at me, hesitating.
"Ms. Pruitt, I don't mean to overstep, but it wasn't easy for you to get pregnant. Are you sure you want to terminate?"
Ever since my miscarriage, getting pregnant again had been even harder.
