The day before our engagement party, I was in a multi-car pileup. So was Rosamund Gilbert, Owen Matthews's so-called "girl best friend."

I was lying in the ER, drenched in my own blood, when a WhatsApp message from Owen lit up my screen：

【Rosie got scared by all the blood and fainted. I need to stay with her while she gets her IV.】

【She hasn't been doing well lately, and she can't handle any more stress. Let's cancel the engagement party tomorrow.】

【Figure out something to tell both families. Just make sure it doesn't upset Rosie……Tell them you changed your mind for now.】

I stared at the forms the doctor had just placed in front of me. An induced-labor consent form. A critical-condition notice.

Through the blinding pain tearing through my abdomen, I typed back a single word：

【Fine.】

This wedding was one I truly wouldn't live to see.

Almost instantly, Rosamund posted on Instagram.

The photo showed a bowl of peeled shrimp, a hand wearing an engagement ring, and the backdrop of a private hospital suite.

The caption read：

【He told me that no matter what happens, I'll always be his first priority.】

In the comments, Owen's friends were falling over themselves with likes, calling him the perfect man.

I let out a bitter laugh, pressed my hand against my now-flat stomach, and liked the post.

Then I left a comment：【Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness!】

……

“Ms. Summers, is your family still not here?”

A nurse stood at the foot of my bed, holding a stack of forms. There was pity in her eyes.

“The anesthesia from the procedure is wearing off, and you're still in the critical observation window.”

“These forms have to be signed by a family member.”

I stared up at the harsh fluorescent light on the ceiling. My vision blurred.

“There's no family.”

“I'll sign them myself.”

I braced my half-numb body and tried to sit up.

A tearing pain ripped through my abdomen.

I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.

The nurse grabbed me before I could fall back.

“Don't move.”

“You lost so much blood during the surgery, we almost didn't bring you back.”

She handed me the pen and pointed to the blank lines on the forms.

“Here. And here.”

I gripped the pen.

My fingers wouldn't stop shaking.

The tip touched the paper and left a crooked trail of ink.

【Induced-Labor Consent Form】.

【Critical-Condition Notice】.

【Discharge Risk Acknowledgment】.

I finished writing my name on each one.

My phone buzzed against the pillow.

Owen's name flashed across the screen.

I answered.

“Did you smooth things over with both families yet?”

Owen's voice came through the speaker.

“Not yet,” I said.

“What do you mean, not yet?”

A note of irritation crept into his voice.

“Rosie just saw a text from my mom and thought we were fighting. She panicked so hard she ripped the IV right out of her hand.”

“She's terrified of blood. The second she saw it on the back of her hand, she started crying again.”

“Can you just handle this? Get it under control?”

“It's just the back of her hand bleeding, right?” I asked.

There was a pause on the other end. When Owen spoke again, his voice had dropped.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Roberta Summers, are you getting jealous again?”

“It was a chaotic crash scene. Rosie's a girl. Of course she was terrified.”

“You've always been so independent. Don't pick now to start making a scene, alright?”

Independent.

I closed my eyes.

Because I was independent, I deserved to lie in the ER alone.

Deserved to hear him comforting another frightened woman while I clawed my way back from the edge of death.

“Owen.”

“Which hospital are you at?”

“City Central. Why?”

“No reason.”

I was at City Central too.

He was in the private suite on the top floor. I was in the ER on the first.

“Post something in the family group chat. Now.” Owen's voice was clipped, impatient.

“Tell them you've been stressed at work, pre-wedding jitters, and you want to push the engagement party back.”

“Don't bring up Rosie. I don't need the relatives running their mouths.”

I pressed my hand against my stomach. Flat now. “Fine. Anything else?”

Owen paused, caught off guard. His tone softened a fraction.

“Bobbie, don't be too upset about all this.”

“Once Rosie's feeling better, I'll take you to pick out that wedding dress you liked.”

“I know today was hard on you.”

I said nothing. I hung up.

Hard on me?

No. It wasn't hard on me.

I was just disgusted.

I opened WhatsApp and scrolled to the post Rosamund had just put up on social media.

A slender, pale hand wearing an engagement ring.

The ring Owen and I had picked out together.

Our initials were engraved on the inside of the band.

He'd said it was too much trouble, that since Rosamund liked the design, he'd just lend it to her for a while. Calm her down.

“It's just a ring. I'll buy you a bigger one later.”

I stared at the photo.

My fingertip hovered over the screen for a long time.

Then, slowly, I raised my left hand.

On my ring finger, a faint indentation circled the skin.

A plain band ring I'd bought myself. Three years I'd worn it.

I forced it off.

The metal edge scraped skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

I placed the ring on top of the induced-labor consent form, right over my signature.

The nurse froze when she came to collect the paperwork.

“Ms. Summers, the ring……”

“I don't want it.”

I turned my head toward the window. The sky was a flat, colorless gray.

“Put it toward the hospital bill.”

Eight years.

And a child who never got to see the world.

All of it died in that moment.

Three days later, I signed the discharge papers.

The doctor told me to stay in bed, rest, and under no circumstances touch cold water.

I nodded, then took a cab back to the Riverview Apartment alone.

This was the place Owen and I had set up for after the wedding.

On the coffee table in the living room, an unopened box of wedding favors still sat waiting.

I pulled open the drawer beneath the table.

Inside was a thick binder of pre-wedding checklists.

Venue layout, guest list, every last detail in my handwriting.

Underneath the binder was a pink envelope folder.

I slid it out.

Inside were a stack of prenatal reports and several pairs of baby socks with the tags still on.

I'd planned to surprise Owen with the news at the engagement party.

I'd even picked out a name.

It was written on the last page of the planning binder.

I turned to that page and looked at the two words I'd penciled in. The name I'd chosen for our baby.

My vision blurred.

The lock beeped once, soft and electronic.

Owen walked in.

He was wearing the black coat I'd bought him, a sleek gift bag in one hand.

He stopped when he saw me on the couch.

“You're out of the hospital?”

He walked over and set the bag on the coffee table.

“Why didn't you call me? I would've picked you up.”

“No need.” I tucked the envelope folder back into the drawer.

“I got myself home.”

Owen sighed and sat down beside me.

He reached over to touch my hair.

I tilted my head away.

His hand hung in the air. Something in his expression hardened.

“Bobbie, how long are you going to keep this up?”

He pulled his hand back, a thin thread of exasperation in his voice.

“I already told you, the engagement party is only postponed.”

“Rosie was really shaken up that day. She's all alone in this city. If I don't look after her, who will?”

“You're usually so easygoing. Why are you picking a fight with someone who's still recovering?”

I looked at him.

“Owen.”

“Do you have any idea what these past three days have been like for me?”

Owen frowned.

“I know you've been upset.”

He pushed the paper bag on the coffee table toward me.

“This is from that chestnut cake place on the south side you love. I waited in line half an hour for it.”

“Stop being mad, okay?”

He was using that tone, the one you'd use to coax a child.

I looked at the bag with its elegant logo.

“Rosamund's leftovers?”

Owen's expression froze.

“What are you talking about?”

“That shop is on the south side. The hospital is on the north side. You came straight from the hospital. Why would you go all the way across town for cake?”

I held his gaze. My voice was completely flat.

“Rosamund likes chestnuts, but she's allergic to peanuts.”

“This shop puts crushed peanuts in their chestnut cake.”

“You bought it for her. She couldn't eat it. So you brought the rest home to me. Am I wrong?”

Owen's eyes flickered away for a second.

But he recovered fast, straightening up like he had nothing to be ashamed of.

“So what if I did?”

“I figured you like it too. What's the big deal?”

“Roberta, do you have to make everything sound so ugly?”

He stood up and looked down at me.

“I've been at the hospital taking care of Rosie for days. I'm exhausted.”

“Can you stop nitpicking over every little thing?”

Nitpicking.

I nearly laughed.

“Owen, do you even know what I lost?”

I tilted my head up to look at him.

Owen blinked, caught off guard.

“It's just an engagement party.”

He tugged at his tie, irritated.

“I told you I'd make it up to you. What more do you want?”

“Is saving face really that important to you?”

I watched him in silence.

Watched the impatience in his eyes, the certainty that he'd done nothing wrong.

Every explanation I had left died in my throat.

He didn't even know what injuries I'd sustained.

He didn't care.

I stood up. The motion was too quick; pain tore through my abdomen.

I gritted my teeth against it and walked to the entryway.

“We're done.”

My voice was quiet, but every word was clear.

Owen went still.

He turned, eyes wide.

“What did you just say?”

“We're done.”

I said it again.

“There's no wedding. I'll contact a realtor to sell the apartment. Wire my share of the money to my account.”

Owen stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh.

“Wow, Roberta. You've really grown a spine, haven't you?”

“Using a breakup to threaten me?”

He walked up to me, his gaze dripping with the smug certainty of a man who believed he could never be left.

“Fine. You want out?”

“Go ahead.”

“I'd love to see what you amount to without me.”

He grabbed his coat off the sofa and walked out without looking back.

“Call me when you've come to your senses.”

After Owen left, I took out my phone.

I opened the family group chat, the one titled "One Big Happy Family."

Both sets of parents were in it, along with a few relatives we saw regularly.

The chat had been dead silent ever since I'd announced three days ago that the engagement party was off.

My fingers moved across the keyboard.

No hesitation. I hit send.