Nydia's POV
I used to play the fool just to fit into Blake’s world.
It took me far too long to realize that I’d been the clown in his circus this whole time.
“So, Blake,” I asked calmly, “what do you think?”
He looked at me, irritated.
“Nydia, stop making excuses just because you don’t want to join in. Everyone’s here to have fun. Why ruin the mood? No one meant anything by it. Besides, this isn’t even the first time.”
In his eyes, I was probably the difficult one now.
As such, I stood up, picked up the expensive red wine, and slowly poured it out over the table.
Then, without flinching, I slammed the bottle right into the center of it.
The room fell silent. All eyes widened in shock.
Even Blake was too stunned to move.
Then, I turned and headed for the door.
But he grabbed my wrist.
“What are you throwing a tantrum for now? You can’t even take a joke? Nydia, I’m giving you a chance to apologize. Don’t ruin the night for everyone.”
Yet I yanked my hand back and stared coldly into his eyes.
“Blake, I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’m done. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want you.”
But he only burst out laughing.
“You’re negotiating with me now? Seriously? What do you even have to offer? You’ve got nothing, just a big pregnant belly. You should be grateful I haven’t left you.”
Despite his insult, I didn’t answer. I just turned and walked out.
Seeing me acting cold, he frowned, then followed me, blocking my way.
“Alright, fine,” he said. “Maybe I was a little harsh. Let’s forget about all this, okay? You don’t even have to apologize. Just be more understanding, alright?”
He leaned down, resting his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me.
He once told me this was the closest two hearts could ever be.
But now, my arms just hung at my sides, and our hearts were miles apart. And they’d never be close again.
“One more thing,” he murmured. “I promised Polly I’d take her to Paris before the wedding. Think of it as closure for all of us. You stay home, take care of the baby, and when I get back, we’ll get married.”
My heart didn’t race. My chest didn’t ache. The love I used to feel had long since faded to nothing.
As such, I didn’t say a word.
And he took my silence as obedience.
“Good girl,” he said softly, kissing my forehead, then walked out.
I had once told him I wanted our honeymoon in Paris. I dreamed of walking with him hand-in-hand through the City of Love, locking our names on a bridge like it meant forever.
But not anymore.
Not now.
This time, Blake, I really didn't want you anymore.
As soon as I got home, I started packing.
I didn’t take a single thing he bought me.
They were all just leftovers—things Polly didn’t want.
I only packed a few clothes.
When I zipped up the suitcase, I realized something heartbreaking: eight years of love didn’t even fill one small piece of luggage.
Without looking back, I walked away.
Just before I entered the operating room, Blake sent me a message just to “check in.”
As the anesthesia flowed through my veins, he was boarding a plane with Polly, going to Paris.
As the instruments began their work, the tiny life inside me slowly disappeared.
Blake, this was the most painful lesson you’d ever taught me.
When I woke from the dream, all that greeted me was darkness.
No more heartbeat beneath my hands.
I then gently touched my belly, which was now empty.
I opened my phone, and the first post I saw was Polly’s update of a photo of her and Blake holding hands in Paris, smiling as they placed a love lock on a bridge.
A few days later, I received two new messages.
One from him, and one from my manager.
[Nydia, how did you manage to pay off all those penalties at once?]
[Nydia, I’m coming back. How are you and the baby?]
