“Look at her, trapping Cain with a child just to grab attention.”

The words slid through the air smoothly, almost lazily, like the woman enjoyed how easily they landed on my back. I stopped walking, not because I wanted to, but because my body refused to move forward, my feet suddenly heavy, my fingers tightening around my clutch until the edges bit into my skin.

Another voice followed, amused, sharp.

“She really thought pregnancy would turn her into Mrs. Forever.”

A soft laugh broke out.

“I heard it was an accident. But accidents can be useful, right.”

I inhaled slowly, carefully, forcing my lungs to work even as my chest tightened painfully, my heart thudding so hard it made my ears ring. The hall felt too bright, too loud, the crystal lights overhead reflecting everywhere like they were meant to expose me, not celebrate anything.

I stood near a pillar, my back straight, my chin lifted, because I refused to look small even when my hands were cold and trembling. My palm rested over my stomach without thinking. The curve was still subtle, still something I could hide under fabric, but everyone here seemed to see it clearly anyway.

The baby shifted.

The movement was sudden and sharp, enough to make my breath hitch, a thin line of pain spreading low and deep. I swallowed and pressed my hand a little harder, my fingers splaying protectively as if I could shield us both from the eyes around me.

Then the host stepped forward, his voice smooth, trained, loud enough to cut through the chatter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here tonight. We have someone very special to welcome back.”

The room leaned in as one.

“She’s finally back.”

Applause exploded, loud and eager, filling the space like a wave crashing over my head.b

My vision blurred at the edges. My ears rang. My chest tightened so fast it felt like my ribs were folding inward.

She walked in through the doors like time had waited for her.

Leah.

Her name moved through the crowd almost as quickly as she did.

“Leah’s back.”

“She looks even better.”

“No wonder Cain never forgot her.”

She wore white, soft and effortless, her hair shining under the lights, her smile calm and confident, the kind that came from knowing she would always be welcomed. Her heels clicked steadily against the floor, each step sure, each movement graceful, like she belonged here in a way I never had.

Cain was beside her.

My husband.

He leaned slightly toward her as they walked, his hand hovering close to her back, not touching, but ready, familiar. His face looked relaxed, pleased, open in a way I had not seen directed at me in a long time.

Something inside my chest gave a small, sharp crack.

I took a step forward before I could stop myself. Then another. The floor felt unstable beneath my feet, my knees weak, my stomach heavy.

When I reached him, I lifted my hand, just a little. Not dramatic. Not desperate. I only wanted to touch him. To remind him I was there. To remind myself I still existed beside him.

My fingers brushed his sleeve.

Cain reacted instantly.

He shook my hand off.

Not gently. Not carefully.

His arm jerked away like my touch irritated him, like it was an interruption he had not planned for. The movement was rough enough that my fingers stung.

My hand stayed suspended in the air for half a second, my fingers curled uselessly, before I let it fall back to my side. Heat rushed into my face. My skin burned. My chest tightened until my breath came shallow and uneven.

He did not look at me. Not even once.

Someone near me muttered, not bothering to hide it.

“Did you see that.”

Another woman replied, louder.

“She really has no shame.”

A few people laughed quietly. Not loud enough to call it cruelty. But Loud enough to make sure I heard.

I forced my shoulders back, forced my spine straight, even as my hands shook at my sides. My stomach twisted hard, nausea rising into my throat.

I looked at Cain.

He was already focused on Leah again.

She leaned closer to him, her hand brushing his arm lightly, and he smiled, not politely, not stiffly, but warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a little.

It was a smile I remembered.

A smile that once belonged to me.

Back when I still believed promises meant protection.

My breathing went uneven. My chest hurt and my fingers dug into my clutch again, grounding me through the pain biting into my palms.

A memory pushed in without permission.

White walls. A clean room. The smell of disinfectant. The doctor’s voice gentle and careful.

“You’re pregnant.”

Hope had rushed through me too fast, too bright. I had turned to Cain without thinking.

His jaw had tightened.

“This is unexpected.”

Not congratulations. Not happiness. Just that.

The memory blurred, broke apart. I did not let it go further. I could not afford to.

Someone’s voice dragged me back.

“See how he looks at her.”

Another voice answered.

“That’s what love looks like. Not whatever this is.”

Her eyes flicked openly to my stomach.

My skin burned. My throat tightened until swallowing hurt. I shifted my weight, my knees threatening to buckle.

I stepped forward again.

“Cain,” I said.

My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

He turned this time, irritation flashing briefly across his face before he smoothed it away.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “What is it?”

The calm made it worse.

People were watching now. I could feel it. The room felt smaller, tighter, every breath thick.

“They’re saying things,” I said quietly. “About the baby. About me.”

He glanced around once, then leaned closer, his voice dropping.

“You’re sensitive because of the pregnancy,” he said. “You shouldn’t let comments affect you like this.”

His eyes hardened for just a second.

“Stress isn’t good for the baby,” he added. “You should control your emotions.”

Control.

Like this was something I was choosing.

My chest hurt. My hands trembled. A dull ache spread low in my stomach, heavier now, wrong.

“Can you tell them to stop,” I asked. “Just say something.”

His jaw tightened.

“Mara,” he said evenly, “this isn’t the time. Don’t make a scene. People are watching.”

The words emptied me.

Something slipped loose inside my chest, quiet but final.

Behind him, Leah watched silently. Her head tilted slightly, her lips curved in a slow, knowing smile. She looked calm. Certain. Like she was already standing on ground she knew belonged to her.

Pain stabbed through my stomach suddenly, sharp enough that my breath broke. I bent slightly without meaning to, my hand flying back to my stomach, my fingers shaking as I pressed down. My vision swam and Sweat broke out along my spine.

I felt it then.

Something was wrong.

As I lifted my head slowly, fighting the dizziness, Leah met my eyes.

And she smiled.

Our marriage did not come from romance. It came from pressure, timing, and silence.

Cain married me fast, too fast for love to grow and too quiet for doubt to speak. His family wanted stability, something neat and respectable, something that would quiet the rumors that had always followed him and Leah like a shadow.

A sudden marriage to me was the easiest way to make people stop talking. I told myself it was enough. A ring on my finger. His name added to mine. A promise, even if it was never spoken, that things would finally change.

They never did.

I fell in love with a man who had already given his heart away, and I spent every day of our marriage pretending not to notice that it had never been mine.

Standing in the reception hall again, surrounded by light and music and smiling faces, I realized marriage had only changed my title, not my place. I was still the one standing on the edge, still the one waiting, still the one hoping for scraps of attention that never came.

The thought made my chest tighten, my breath turning shallow as shame crept up my spine.

I had been so foolish.

A sharp laugh cut through the noise and pulled my attention to the side. I knew that sound. It was too familiar, too precise, carrying a kind of amusement that was never harmless.

I turned my head slightly and saw them gathered near the champagne table, dressed in silk and diamonds, their hair perfect, their posture relaxed, like they owned the space. The same eyes that looked through people instead of at them. The same smiles that sharpened the moment they landed on me.

“Isn’t that her,” one of them said, not bothering to lower her voice. “She looks exactly the same.”

Another laughed, slow and deliberate. “Of course she does. Girls like her don’t really change.”

I felt my jaw tighten, tension spreading into my neck, but I kept my face calm, my expression still, even as my fingers curled slightly at my side.

“She still has that look,” the third one added, tilting her head as she studied me openly. “Like she’s waiting for someone to save her.”

“She never learned her place,” the first said. “Still clinging. Still embarrassing.”

I let out a controlled breath through my nose, my chest burning with the effort to stay steady.

Not today, I told myself. Not here. Not anymore.

A deep ache rolled through my lower abdomen, slow at first, then heavier, enough to make me pause and shift my weight. I pressed my fingers briefly against my stomach, grounding myself, feeling my heartbeat thud beneath my palm.

I reached for my phone and typed quickly, my hands trembling despite my effort to stay calm.

“I’m in pain. It’s getting worse.”

The message was sent instantly. I stared at the screen, my breath caught halfway in my chest.

Seen.

No reply.

I waited anyway, counting my breaths without meaning to, my shoulders tight, my stomach twisting uncomfortably as seconds stretched into something heavier.

Nothing.

I lifted my head and scanned the room, my eyes finding Cain without effort. He stood near the bar, relaxed, his body angled toward Leah as she spoke, her hand resting easily on his arm like it had always belonged there. He laughed softly at something she said, his expression open and warm.

Then he started walking.

Straight toward me.

My body reacted before my mind could stop it. My chest loosened just a little. My shoulders lifted. Hope, small and humiliating, rose in my throat, warm and dangerous. For a brief, fragile moment, I thought he had finally noticed. Thought he had seen my face, the way I was standing too stiffly, the way my hand kept drifting back to my stomach.

I told myself not to hope, but my heart did it anyway.

He got closer. Close enough that I could see the faint crease between his brows, close enough that my breath hitched without my permission.

Then he passed me like I was invincible. He did not even spare a second to look at me.

He walked right by me and reached the bar, ordering a drink without hesitation. I stood there frozen, my hand halfway lifted before I realized what I had been doing. Heat flooded my face, sharp and burning, my chest tightening so fast it hurt to breathe.

He took the glass, turned slightly, and finally looked at me.

“Stop embarrassing me with that long face,” he said coolly. “People are watching.”

The words landed harder than a slap.

My stomach clenched violently, pain shooting low and sharp, enough to make me sway. I swallowed thickly, my throat closing, my ears ringing as laughter and music blurred together around me.

He turned away immediately and handed the drink to Leah, his attention already gone.

Something inside me went very still.

My phone vibrated in my hand, the sudden movement making my fingers jerk.

“Mrs. Cain,” a calm female voice said when I answered. “I’m calling to confirm the documents you requested. The divorce papers are ready. We just need your final confirmation.”

The room felt distant. My breathing slowed. The pain in my stomach was still there, heavy and wrong, but my thoughts were suddenly clear in a way they had never been before.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “Proceed.”

I ended the call and slipped my phone back into my bag. My hands shook as I did, my palms damp, my heart still pounding, but something firm settled in my chest, something that did not waver.

I turned toward the exit.

I should have known it would not be that simple.

They stepped directly into my path, blocking me before I could take another step.

“Oh, leaving already,” one of them said, her smile wide and false. “The night just started.”

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling sick,” another added, her gaze dropping pointedly to my stomach. “Pregnancy suits you. Makes you look delicate.”

“Or desperate,” the third said with a laugh.

I tried to move around them, my patience thinning, my stomach tightening again with a deep, aching pressure.

They shifted together, closing the space deliberately.

“Move,” I said calmly, even as my heart raced and my breath grew heavier.

“Why so rude,” one of them mocked. “We’re just talking. Like friends.”

“Friends don’t slap their husbands’ reputations around,” another said softly.

Then one of them leaned closer, her voice low and sweet, and said, “Don’t worry. If the baby doesn’t keep him, Leah will.”

Something snapped.

My hand moved before my mind caught up, the sound sharp and echoing as my palm connected with her cheek. She stumbled back, eyes wide, hand flying to her face as the room fell into sudden, shocked silence.

I stood there breathing hard, my chest burning, my palm stinging, my stomach aching fiercely, but my spine straight, my feet planted firmly on the floor.

“Say one more word,” I said evenly, my voice low and steady despite the tremor in my body, “and I will forget I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

For a second, no one spoke.

The woman I had slapped stood frozen in front of me, her cheek already blooming red, her eyes wide, her mouth opening and closing like her body could not decide whether to scream or pretend nothing had happened. The others stared at me too, shock slicing through their confidence, their earlier smiles wiped clean, their bodies stiff and uncertain.

Then pain tore through me.

It came sharp and sudden, low in my stomach, so intense it stole the air from my lungs. A violent cramp twisted deep inside me, hot and blinding, and my breath broke with a small, helpless sound before I could stop it. My hand flew instinctively to my abdomen, my fingers pressing hard as my knees weakened beneath me.

I bent slightly despite myself, my vision swimming, sweat breaking out along my spine as nausea rolled up into my throat.

The room laughed. Slow and Deliberate.

“Wow,” Leah said calmly. “You still have that temper.”

I forced myself to straighten, every muscle shaking with effort, my stomach burning like it was being wrung from the inside. I lifted my head slowly and turned toward her, even though my body screamed for me to sit down.

She stood a few steps away, a glass resting lightly in her hand, her posture relaxed, her expression openly curious. Up close, she looked impossibly polished, flawless skin, careful makeup, eyes bright with interest that held no concern at all.

“Still hitting people when things don’t go your way,” she continued lightly. “Some habits really don’t change.”

Another sharp cramp twisted through me, tighter than before, forcing a shallow gasp from my chest. I clenched my jaw and swallowed it down, refusing to let her see how badly it hurt.

“You followed me,” I said, my voice steady only because I forced it to be.

She shrugged, unconcerned. “I was curious. I wanted to see you up close again.”

Her gaze dropped deliberately to my stomach.

“And the baby,” she added softly. “I heard so much about how hard you worked to keep Cain.”

My fingers curled into my palm, my nails biting into skin as my abdomen throbbed painfully.

“I didn’t trap him,” I said. “And I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Leah smiled wider, slow and confident.

“Oh, you don’t have to explain to me,” she said. “Everyone already understands.”

One of the women behind her let out a nervous laugh, trying to reclaim her courage.

“She’s right,” she said. “You always knew how to cling.”

The pain surged again, deep and burning, spreading outward until my legs felt unstable beneath me. My back was damp with sweat now, my breathing shallow and uneven, my body betraying me with every second I stayed upright.

Leah stepped closer, lowering her voice.

“You should really sit,” she said gently. “Pregnancy is fragile, especially when emotions run wild. Cain would be upset if something happened.”

The false concern almost made me laugh.

I lifted my eyes to hers.

“You don’t care about him being upset,” I said quietly. “You care about winning.”

Her smile slipped for half a heartbeat.

Then she leaned in close, close enough that only I could hear her.

“He was never yours,” she whispered. “Not in school. Not in marriage. You were just convenient.”

Something in my chest burned raw. My ears rang. My vision blurred at the edges as another cramp twisted through me, sharp enough that I had to grip the edge of the table beside me to stay standing.

Before I could respond, footsteps rushed toward us.

Cain’s voice cut through the tension.

“What’s going on here?”

Leah reacted instantly.

She stepped back, her posture softening, her shoulders slumping just slightly, her expression rearranging itself into alarm. She dropped her glass and moved toward Cain without hesitation.

“She slapped her,” someone said quickly.

Leah gasped softly and reached for Cain, her hands clutching his jacket like she needed support.

“You’re going to scare her!” Cain snapped, his arm already around Leah’s shoulders, pulling her protectively against him. “What is wrong with you?”

He did not look at me.

Not once.

I stood there bent slightly forward, one hand pressed hard against my stomach, my breathing uneven, pain rolling through me in waves that made my vision swim. My legs trembled. My body screamed for me to sit, to lie down, to stop.

Cain’s hands rubbed Leah’s back soothingly.

“Are you okay,” he asked her urgently. “Did she hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Leah said softly, leaning into him. “I was just worried about her. She looks unwell.”

She glanced at me then, briefly, like I was an inconvenience cluttering the scene.

Cain followed her gaze only for a second.

“Why are people staring,” he said coldly. “What did you do now?”

Another cramp ripped through me, sharper than all the others, forcing a broken breath from my chest. I reached out blindly and braced myself against the table, my fingers shaking violently.

“I tried to leave,” I said through clenched teeth. “They blocked me.”

He frowned, impatience clear on his face.

“You didn’t need to escalate it,” he said. “You’re pregnant. Think before you act.”

Leah’s fingers tightened on his sleeve.

“She’s under a lot of stress,” she murmured gently. “Maybe she misunderstood.”

I let out a short, rough laugh before I could stop myself, the sound scraping my throat.

Misunderstood.

My stomach tightened again, heavy and wrong, fear creeping in beneath the pain now. My hands shook as I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone, blinking hard to clear my vision.

I opened the app and requested an Uber.

It was no use waiting for a man who had already chosen.

Cain finally noticed.

“What are you doing,” he asked sharply.

“I’m leaving,” I said.

“Now,” Leah said softly, concern painted perfectly across her face. “Is that really safe?”

I looked at her, then at Cain.

Her hand was still gripping his arm.

He still had not let go of her.

That was my answer.

The notification appeared on my screen.

Driver on the way.

Leah leaned closer again, her sweetness fading as her voice dropped.

“You really should be careful,” she murmured. “If something happens, people will talk.”

I forced myself to straighten fully, even as pain screamed through my body, even as sweat soaked my back and my legs threatened to give way.

“They already are,” I said clearly.

Then I turned to Cain, my chest tight, my breath shallow and my stomach aching.

“I have no words for you.”