“We’ve been together since we were kids. Married for ten years,” Clarissa said, her voice trembling. “How can you throw it all away over something so small?”
She glanced toward the woman standing quietly behind me—my new partner—and suddenly, the air shifted.
“I don’t care about those other women,” she said, louder now. “As long as you’re willing to come home, I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”
Gasps rippled through the room. Everyone’s eyes landed on me like a thousand blades.
My father clenched his fists and, before I could react, swung at me. The punch sent pain shooting through my jaw.
“So this is why?” he shouted. “You’re seeing someone else? I raised a bastard like you?”
My mother rushed to his side, panicked. “Stop it! He just got out of the hospital—are you trying to send yourself to the ER?”
“Graham, listen to your mother,” she begged, grabbing my arm. “Come home. Live a good life with Clarissa. Don’t throw this away.”
The voices closed in on me—relatives, old friends, even Clarissa’s best friend—all desperate to pull me back.
Clarissa, still crying, grabbed my hand. Her voice was soft, broken. “Please… I know I’ve made mistakes. But don’t walk away.”
My eyes went cold. I shook her off, my voice cutting clean through the noise.
“Let go. I don’t love you anymore.”
The room fell into stunned silence.
Clarissa froze. Her lips parted slightly, trembling. “What… what did you just say?”
I turned to leave.
She lunged at me, clutching my waist with both arms. “Don’t go! Please, don’t go. It’s all my fault. I’ll fix everything. Just give me another chance!”
Her best friend blocked my path. “Graham, are you out of your mind? Apologize to her right now!”
“Clarissa has been with you through everything. Middle school, college—eight years before you even got married!”
“How can you forget all that? You two used to be in love!”
Her voice cracked with fury. “You bastard… what about the child she’s carrying?”
A murmur spread through the crowd. My mother’s eyes widened in horror. My father looked stunned.
My mother rushed forward, shoving the divorce papers aside. “She’s pregnant with your child, and you’re still talking about divorce? Has your heart turned to stone?”
I stood my ground.
They all looked at me like I was a monster, but I didn’t flinch.
“No matter whose child she’s carrying,” I said, each word deliberate, “this marriage is over.”
My mother gasped, clutching her chest.
“You’ve always wanted a child, Graham,” she whispered. “From the time you were twenty… for ten years, all you’ve wanted was to be a father. Now that Clarissa’s finally pregnant, why are you walking away?”
Her words struck like a hammer.
She wasn’t wrong.
I had dreamed of this. Ten long years of hoping. Waiting. Failing.
Each time Clarissa said not now, or said she was “trying,” I believed her. Until I couldn’t anymore.
That dream had died long before today.
And just then, as if fate wanted to gut me one more time, the front door opened—and in walked Milo Harrington, our neighbor, a baby girl in his arms.
He looked startled by the crowd. “I just came to drop her off for Clarissa. I’m heading to work.”
Without missing a beat, Clarissa rushed to him, snatching the baby from his arms like she’d been waiting all day.
She didn’t even glance at me.
The way she held that child… her eyes softened, her voice turned gentle. It was a kind of love she’d never shown me. A kind of warmth I’d begged for.
And failed to receive.
We’d lost children before—two miscarriages that nearly broke me. But I’d never seen her look at our unborn babies the way she looked at Milo’s daughter.
I staggered back a step, my breath catching in my throat.
“Graham,” Milo said awkwardly, “I heard the shouting just now. I… I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I’ll take the baby and go find another sitter.”
Clarissa turned sharply, eyes clouded with guilt. “No, it’s fine. I’m just helping out. Don’t take it the wrong way.”
Then she turned to me, her tone accusing. “Graham, you’re still recovering. Stop making a scene and blaming others for what’s between us.”
