First thing Leah Labelle did after Andrew Fillion's funeral? Ask her husband Ian for a divorce.

Why? Because Ian's entire family thought the perfect way to honor his dead brother was to knock up the widow. Naturally.

"My parents are threatening to hang themselves or starve, Leah. What was I supposed to do? It's just IVF with Cecilia—we're not even doing anything. Why are you making this a divorce thing?"

Leah shut her eyes. Her chest cracked open, and the tears she'd been holding finally broke free.

"Ian, we're MARRIED. You seriously don't think this is next-level insane?"

Her husband was about to have a baby with someone else. But sure—she was the crazy one.

Harbor City, Carmoria

Ian froze. Leah was crying—he almost reached for her. Then his phone buzzed.

"Ian, get back here right now! Cecilia just swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills—she's trying to kill herself!"

"What?!"

He slammed the brakes, swerved onto the shoulder.

"Leah, wait at the rest stop. I'll be right back."

Rain pounded the windshield. She didn't move.

Next thing—he was yanking her seatbelt off, shoving her into the storm.

"This isn't the time for your drama! Someone's actually dying—why do you have to be so selfish?"

She hit the ground hard. Mud soaked her dress. Rain slapped her face.

Then he was gone.

Her heart? Torched.

Flashes of the past hit her hard.

First time? Rumors at school. Everyone iced her out—until Ian tracked down the person who started it and shut it down.

Second? Some creep of a landlord tried something. Ian beat him up and moved her out that same night.

Third? Some unstable guy shoved her into a frozen lake. Ian didn't even hesitate—just dove in and yanked her back from the edge.

Everyone used to say Leah was Ian's whole world.

From girlfriend to wife, she really thought they'd make it. Grow old.

Three years later? This.

She walked the shoulder, rain hammering down. Her dress clung to her skin. Hair plastered to her neck. Heels tore her ankles raw.

By the time she made it home, it was past midnight.

She reached for the door—then heard Ian's voice inside, on speaker.

"Ian, you're really doing IVF with Cecilia? Guess that childhood dream's finally happening, huh!"

"Dude, you've been into her forever. Sucks she was into your brother. We all thought you'd never get a shot. Screw IVF—just go for it already!"

"Shut up," Ian muttered. Then softer, "She's still grieving. Don't talk like that. But... I hope our kid looks like her."

Laughter exploded on the other end.

"If we'd known, you could've skipped all those dumb stunts—the fake rumors, the sketchy landlord, the nutcase at the lake. Why bother with the stand-in when the real deal was always better?"

The world tilted.

Leah gripped the doorknob like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

So that was it.

No wonder that classmate who ruined her got a random scholarship.

No wonder the creep landlord never called the cops—and even handed back her deposit after getting wrecked.

No wonder no one reported the lake incident.

No wonder, the first time she met the Fillions, they said she looked like Cecilia... joked their family had a "type."

It was all Ian. Every single piece, planned.

Her chest felt crushed. She could barely breathe. Tears slid down, silent.

Her phone buzzed. She answered on autopilot.

"Leah, have you reconsidered Maestro Elio Vezzaro? He's absolutely the right choice! The deadline's in seven days. You're too talented to let this go!"

Staring at the door, Leah wiped her tears with shaky fingers.

"Prof. Calvo, you don't have to say more. I'll go."

"Really?!"

Her mentor's voice shot through the phone.

Leah gripped it tighter, that bitter taste crawling up her throat.

God, she'd been such an idiot. Elio Vezzaro was the guy in wood sculpture—his stuff sold for wild money. People would kill to be his apprentice.

And she gave it up... all because Ian once said, "Leah, I don't like long-distance relationships."

She thought it meant he couldn't bear being away from her. Thought it was love.

That sweet little lie made it all seem worth it.

Now she knew—he didn't love her. Just her face. The one that looked too much like Cecilia's.

"I'll be there on time in seven days, Prof. Calvo."

She hung up.

Ian had just finished his call, too.

As she walked in and headed upstairs, he said, "To help with the pregnancy prep, Cecilia... she'll be staying in the guest room from now on."

He rushed it out. "Don't take it the wrong way! I don't have a choice. She's a wreck—might do something stupid if she's alone. And... my parents want it, too."

Leah paused. His twitchy look said everything. The corner of her mouth lifted.

"Got it."

What was he scrambling to cover?

Her cool tone made something twist in his chest. Then he noticed her soaked clothes—and remembered.

He was supposed to pick her up. Totally forgot once Cecilia spiraled.

He moved toward her, guilt bubbling—

Then Cecilia threw herself at him.

"Ian, I dreamed of Andrew! He's mad I'm still here. I should've died! Why'd you stop me? Why won't you let me go?"

She bolted.

Ian grabbed her, wrapped her up, voice soft and full of pity. "It was just a nightmare. Nightmares mean the opposite, remember?"

Leah watched them clinging to each other.

She closed her eyes. Just for a second. Then turned and walked upstairs.

Of course he didn't come home that night.

While he was out, Leah pulled her suitcase from the closet and started packing. Quiet, slow. One piece at a time.

By dawn, it was back in the closet. She stepped into the hallway.

Passing the guest room, she stopped cold.

Inside, Ian sat by Cecilia's bed, eyes soft—softer than Leah had ever seen.

Not once. Not for her.

For a second, the last few years flashed through her mind.

Year one—she had a 102 fever, could barely stand. He left after one call. Said it was work. She heard Cecilia's voice in the background.

Year two—business dinner. She got pushed into drink after drink, ended up with a bleeding stomach. Ian disappeared halfway through—another message from Cecilia.

Year three. Four. Five...

Same script, every time.

She used to think it was all just bad timing.

Now she saw it clear.

Tears welled up, but she wiped them away before they fell.

Seven more days. Then she'd be gone.

***

At breakfast, Ian and Cecilia were already out.

Leah headed to her atelier, just picked up her carving knife when her phone lit up—Cassie.

[Leah! You won't believe this! I just saw Ian with his sister-in-law at the fertility clinic! Didn't his brother just die?! What's going on?!]

Photos popped up right after—every angle.

Ian had his arms around Cecilia, looking every bit the doting husband.

A sharp hiss—

Leah's carving knife slipped, slicing across her hand before she even realized it.

Blood dripped from her palm—straight onto the wooden sculpture at her feet.

It was Ian. She'd carved it herself.

He used to tease, "Can't live without me, huh?"

"Mm. You have to keep me company while I work."

Now, staring at the blood-smeared thing, Leah picked it up, walked outside, and dumped it in the trash.

She'd never need him again.

When Ian brought Cecilia home that night, he hesitated. Leah was eating alone.

She used to wait up for him, no matter how late. He'd told her not to—she never listened.

Now? Watching her eat solo like it was nothing, something twisted in his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but Cecilia tugged his arm.

"Ian, should we tell Leah about tomorrow's plans?"

He turned to her. "Doctor said she's too tense lately—it might mess with the IVF. She needs to chill. She likes diving, so we're going."

Leah stood up, headed upstairs. "Go ahead."

She wasn't about to play along with their charade.

Ian caught up before she could shut the door, yanking her hand hard. "Leah, I know you hate the IVF thing, but Cecilia's innocent! Why are you taking it out on her?"

She dropped her gaze. The cut on her finger split open under his grip, bleeding through the bandage.

All she'd said was no—and he was already jumping to defend the woman he loved.

"Ian, she's your sister-in-law. Your brother's wife."

That landed like a slap. He flinched, then snapped, shaking her off. "Leah, you're disgusting! I told you—it's just IVF! Nothing happened!

"My parents want Andrew to have a kid! I can't let them die heartbroken, or let him be forgotten! Why can't you get that, just once?"

Leah didn't answer. Just looked at him, quiet, while he tried to convince himself.

Finally, he turned away, guilt flickering in his eyes as he walked out.

Leah unwrapped the gauze. Blood pooled up again.

Once, even a paper cut on her hand used to freak him out. Now? He didn't even notice this one.

What Cecilia really was to him—sister-in-law or something else—only he knew.

***

The next morning, Ian ignored Leah's protests and shoved her into the car. He and Cecilia took the front seats, leaving her stuck in the back.

He used to hate talking while driving—said it wasn't safe.

Now he and Cecilia were cracking up the whole ride.

Off the coast, they changed into wetsuits and dove in.

Half an hour later, Cecilia popped up. "Leah, you coming in?"

She shook her head. "I can't swim."

"Oh, really—"

Cecilia suddenly grabbed her wrist. "Come on! Don't be lame!"

Next thing Leah knew, she was yanked straight into the water.

Leah gasped, panic hitting hard as she reached out—Cecilia was already gone.

Cold seawater shot up her nose, filled her mouth. Her body sank fast, out of control.

"Help! Ian! Help!"

She thrashed, choking, until a figure sliced through the waves—Ian, eyes wide. "Leah, don't freak out! I'm coming!"

Then a scream cut in behind him.

"Ian! My leg—cramp! I can't move!"

He froze.

Cecilia was flailing, halfway under.

Through the blur, Leah saw Ian glance at her—just once—then turn and swim straight for Cecilia.

His back vanished into the waves.

Her arms dropped. Whatever strength she had left drained out.

As she sank, Leah closed her eyes, a faint, bitter smile tugging at her lips.

What had she even been hoping for?