“Thanks… but I don’t want this. Give it back to him.”
Valeria just tilted her head, eyes wandering across my room like it already belonged to her. “You haven’t picked any baby names yet, have you?” she asked, voice dripping with fake curiosity. “Funny… Sebastian and I once made a list for our own children. Dom for a boy, Loralie for a girl. Cute, right?”
My hands started to shake uncontrollably.
Those were the exact names Sebastian had murmured to me when we talked about our baby. The same ones, paired with that little private smile of his, the one I’d thought meant something special—meant us.
And now I understood. Nothing had ever been ours. Not even the baby. Everything had already belonged to her.
My chest constricted, sharp pain making it almost impossible to breathe.
Suddenly, the bowl slipped from her hands. “Oh no!” she cried, overacting, as the hot liquid poured over my arm, chest, and down toward my stomach. Pain exploded through me in searing waves.
“Ahhh!” I screamed, voice raw.
“Careful!” she gasped, reaching for me with perfectly calculated alarm. “I didn’t mean it! I’m so clumsy… are you okay?”
The skin on my arm bubbled and reddened. I could barely hear her over the burning, over the ragged gasps of my own breaths. I stumbled toward the stairs, desperate to reach anything—bathroom, ointment, ice—to stop the pain.
Before I even reached the first step, something struck me hard from behind.
I barely managed a sharp, choking sound before my body was sent tumbling forward.
Everything blurred.
Pain tore through me as I slammed down the stairs, hitting each step before finally landing on the cold floor.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. All I could see was red spreading across the carpet. It took me a few seconds to register—it was my own blood.
Then Valeria’s scream cut through the house. “Maris!”
Her steps were precise, measured. She fell beside me, as if she were part of the scene she’d orchestrated.
From the kitchen came Sebastian’s shout, the fridge door slamming. He came running, froze when he saw us.
“Lory!” he yelled, rushing to her side. Not me. Her.
He checked her ankle, hands shaking. “Where does it hurt? Show me! Tell me!”
“I’m… fine,” she murmured, weak and fragile, every word a performance. “Please… check on Maris.”
His eyes finally shifted toward me, registering my presence only now.
Then Valeria went completely limp in his arms.
“Lory!” he shouted again, panic raw in his voice. Real panic.
He scooped her up like she was made of glass and bolted out the door, calling for the driver. Not once did he glance at me. Not once did he notice the blood still trickling beneath me.
I lay there, the world spinning, and the last thing I saw before darkness swallowed me was the fridge door, still ajar, a small white box inside. A bitter, hollow smile crossed my lips.
---
When I woke, the room was harshly bright and sterile. White walls, the soft hum of machines.
A doctor hovered over me, clipboard in hand.
Sebastian was there too, standing at the bedside. His voice trembled slightly. “How’s the baby?”
The doctor blinked, confused. “The baby?” His gaze darted between us. “Mr. Alvarado… the pregnancy had already—”
“Water… water,” I croaked, throat dry, chest tight, as if a stone had been dropped inside me.
“Maris!” Sebastian was instantly at my side. “Baby, you’re awake? Does it hurt anywhere? Tell me, please.”
I tried to speak, but no sound came. I shook my head weakly.
The doctor stiffened, mouth opening as if to say something, but stopped. I knew why.
Sebastian squeezed my hand, concern heavy in his voice. “Doctor, what were you saying earlier? I didn’t hear you.”
The doctor hesitated, lips parting, but I shook my head slightly. Please… not now.
He pressed his lips together, exhaled softly, and said, “The patient needs rest. No stress for now.” Then he left us alone.
Silence settled, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner.
Sebastian looked at me, eyes soft, almost breaking. He reached for my cheek. I turned away.
He froze, then softened his voice, gentle now. “Hey… I know you’re angry. I understand. I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve noticed you fell.” He drew a shaky breath. “But thank God… you and the baby are okay. If anything had happened, I’d never forgive myself.”
I stayed silent.
He pressed on, voice trembling just enough to seem sincere. “Please… don’t stay mad at me. I’ll do better. I promise. You mean everything to me.”
His words sounded believable. His eyes full of guilt, his hands shaking like he was hurting too. Anyone else would’ve believed him.
But I didn’t. I could still hear him calling her name first. I remembered how he’d run out carrying her while I bled on the floor.
“I’m tired,” I whispered, pulling my hand free. I closed my eyes, turned away. I couldn’t pretend anymore.
---
For the next few days, he never left my side, playing the part perfectly.
Soup every morning, feeding me like I was fragile china. Accompanying me to every checkup, nodding, asking questions, pretending to care. When I shifted in sleep, he was instantly awake, offering water, a pillow, his hand to hold.
Even the nurses whispered among themselves. “You’re so lucky,” one murmured, thinking I couldn’t hear. “Your husband really loves you.”
If only they knew.
I would watch people outside my window, living freely, without masks. Sebastian thought my silence came from hormones, so he grew even more attentive. Always smiling. Always careful. Always pretending we were perfect.
When I was finally discharged, he announced he had a surprise. His eyes lit with excitement, eager to see me “happy” again.
But I felt nothing. Only a cold, heavy emptiness lodged in my chest. I had already lost everything that could surprise me.
---
He had booked an entire floor of the city’s finest restaurant just for us. No strangers, no noise—only him, me, and a table brimming with food I couldn’t taste. He smiled constantly, poured my wine, cut my steak, as if we were the perfect couple in some fairy tale.
After dinner, we wandered through boutiques, his card swiping endlessly for every item I lingered on—shoes, bags, dresses. “Anything you want, baby,” he repeated.
By nightfall, we stood by the river. Fireworks burst above, exploding into letters: I LOVE YOU.
It should have been magical. It should have felt like a dream.
“Do you like it?” he whispered into my hair, arms tight around me from behind. “I planned it all… for you.”
I stared at the bright sparks. For a fleeting moment, I almost believed the past—the early days, the overwhelming love that once filled every room. But then my hand moved to my flat belly, empty, and everything shattered.
He sensed me stiffen, his arms loosening. “Maris… what’s wrong?” He turned me, cupping my face. “You’ve been so quiet. I’m worried.”
His thumb brushed my cheek. “Maybe you should see someone… a therapist. Pregnancy depression happens. You don’t have to face it alone. Tell me. I’ll listen.”
I looked into his warm, lying eyes—the ones that whispered another woman’s name while staring at me. “If I tell you something… will you be honest? Truly honest?”
He blinked, then smiled that soft, practiced smile. “Of course, baby. You’re my wife. We don’t keep secrets.”
I inhaled slowly, fists curling at my sides. “I know about someone,” I said quietly. “A woman you loved before me. A woman you never really let go of.”
My eyes locked onto his. “Have you let her go?”
He froze. Didn’t even breathe. In that pause, I already knew the answer.
His hand stiffened, veins showing white. Then he forced a gentle smile, calm as if nothing had happened. “Of course I’ve moved on,” he said smoothly. “That was years ago. We broke up, never spoke again. She’s in my past.”
My throat went dry. He said it like it was effortless… a lie dressed as truth.
He reached for my cheek. I turned away automatically, and for a brief second, a flicker of frustration crossed his face.
“Who told you that? Is that what’s bothering you?”
Before I could answer, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and for a heartbeat, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then he answered.
“Sebastian!” A woman’s voice came through, trembling. “Please… help me! Someone’s following me! I’m scared!”
Valeria.
His whole body tensed. “Send me your location.”
He hung up and grabbed his jacket. Didn’t even look at me.
“Baby, something urgent at work. Go home first, okay?”
The door slammed.
I didn’t go home.
Rage, heartbreak, and the sharp knowledge that I’d been a fool for too long burned inside me. I called a cab and told the driver to follow him.
He stopped in a shadowed alley. I watched him. Sebastian stood in front of Valeria like a shield, facing men armed with metal rods.
She clung to him, pretending to cry—but I saw the calculation in her eyes. Not a single hand touched her.
Sebastian fought like a man possessed, every punch desperate, wild, protective. I had never seen him fight like that—not once for me.
Then a man pulled a knife and lunged at her.
“Lory!” Sebastian yelled, and without a second thought, he threw himself in front of her.
The knife sank into his chest.
