The murmurs of doubt were swallowed by the roar of the crowd in an instant.
Through the shifting bodies, Belinda's gaze found me.
She paused for a beat, then broke into an even more radiant smile.
Slowly, deliberately, she placed a hand on her stomach.
"Actually, there's one more piece of good news I'd like to share with everyone."
"No way—is she pregnant?!"
"Oh my God! They're so blessed!"
In the middle of the cheering crowd, Belinda threw her arms around Logan, her face glowing with happiness. He stood frozen, stiff as a board.
A high-pitched ringing flooded my ears.
A baby.
Belinda was having a baby.
My hand drifted to my own stomach without thinking.
I had a baby once, too.
"Hey—it's her! I told you the woman shopping with him earlier wasn't the same one."
The person who'd raised doubts before suddenly jabbed a finger in my direction, announcing it to the entire crowd.
"She's the other woman?!"
A beat of silence. Then someone blurted it out.
"What are you doing here?"
Logan's eyes snapped to me. He stiffened, then immediately stepped sideways to shield Belinda behind him.
As if he were protecting her from danger.
Or protecting her from me.
A memory slammed into me unbidden—Logan on his knees beside my hospital bed, eyes red-rimmed, voice cracking with a promise.
"It's my fault. I didn't protect you or the baby. Give me more time. I'll give you a real home."
Back then, he'd just graduated.
For his ambitions. For our future.
I'd resigned from my position as general manager and recommended him for the role instead. I handled his workload, managed his schedule, took care of every detail of his life.
And the baby—our baby—had come quietly during that time. And left just as quietly.
I never even found out if it was a boy or a girl.
But now.
Now he was shielding another woman. Another child.
And looking at me like I was a threat.
A sharp breath escaped my nose. Almost a laugh.
How pathetic.
"So this is your choice?"
My voice came out steady as I looked at Logan.
But beneath my calm, my nails had already dug so deep into my palms that I couldn't tell skin from blood anymore.
A flicker of panic crossed Logan's face. His mouth opened, but before he could get a word out, Belinda dropped to her knees with a theatrical thud.
Tears streamed down her face, picture-perfect in their misery.
"Martha, I know you two were childhood sweethearts. Please—I'm begging you—don't drive me and my baby away!"
That single sentence detonated the crowd.
"Don't tell me this woman's been stringing the poor guy along, not letting him move on?"
"Childhood sweetheart my ass—she's a homewrecker!"
"Girl, get up! Why are you kneeling for someone like her?"
The naked hostility closed in from every direction, pressing against my skin like something physical. My knees threatened to buckle.
Logan's expression hardened into something vicious. He ground his teeth and turned on me.
"Martha! Are you trying to push Belinda to her death? She's pregnant! Just because you had a miscarriage, you can't stand seeing anyone else happy?!"
"Holy shit—is she that trashy ex-girlfriend?"
The bystanders acted like they'd just cracked the case wide open, and another wave of outrage erupted.
I stared at Logan in disbelief.
He knew. He knew how many sleepless nights that loss had cost me. How many times I'd broken down, shattered into pieces no one else ever saw.
And he'd just ripped open my deepest wound in front of a crowd of strangers—for her.
I stood there, numb, staring at him.
"You'd smear my name for Belinda's sake—"
Smack!
A fistful of wilted lettuce hit me square in the face.
I staggered. The world tilted.
"Shut your mouth! I hate homewreckers more than anything! I'm posting your face everywhere!"
"Yeah, expose her! Shameless tramp!"
Fingers jabbed toward my face, close enough to touch.
Logan took an involuntary step forward.
Something twisted across his features—conflict, guilt, something almost like instinct. But in the end, he pulled his foot back.
Behind him, Belinda peered out from his shadow, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't quite hide the smirk curling at the corners of her lips.
"Stop it! What do you think you're doing, ganging up on this girl? She is NOT the other woman!"
The store clerk shoved her way in front of me, voice raw and shaking as she fought the crowd on my behalf.
Forget it.
She'd already made up her mind to leave. What was the point of saying anything more?
That single step Logan took backward had said everything.
"Ma'am, it's fine. Let it go."
Martha forced a bitter smile and tugged at the clerk's arm, turning to leave.
But the instant she turned, an apple slammed into her stomach.
"Homewrecker! Drop the act! Take a good look at yourself—you think you're good enough for him?!"
Pain.
It seized her entire body, folding her inward. The taste of iron flooded the back of her throat.
Her legs gave out. She crumpled to the floor.
The crowd flinched and scattered like startled birds.
"Martha!"
She heard Logan's voice—sharp, involuntary—and the sound of his footsteps rushing toward her.
Then, a split second later, Belinda cried out.
"Logan, my stomach—it hurts so bad! What if something's wrong with the baby?!"
Martha lifted her head with effort.
Logan had stopped. One step away.
His gaze shifted between her and Belinda, something unreadable churning behind his eyes.
In the end, he pulled back the foot he'd been about to set down.
"Belinda's pregnant. I can't take any chances with that. Go home and wait for me—I'll take you to the hospital when I get back."
He turned without hesitation, scooped Belinda into his arms, and disappeared behind the shelves.
The last image Martha's eyes held: his retreating back, resolute and final. And over his shoulder, Belinda's smile—again.
The supermarket went quiet. The crowd melted away in silence.
"Sweetheart, let me take you home."
The clerk helped Martha to her feet. Martha shook her head.
"I'm okay. Thank you for protecting me."
Some roads could only be walked alone.
She straightened through the pain, and with every step toward home, her stride grew steadier than the last.
At the door, she paused and looked back one final time at the apartment they'd shared.
It was a good home.
What a shame.
