My boyfriend, Connor Hayes, sent me on a hike through the Appalachian Trail when I was five months pregnant, simply because I didn't want to go to his first love's hair salon.

I'd been with him for ten years. For a decade, he acted like a caring, kind man, using sweet words and gentle looks.

That illusion shattered the day he took me to get a haircut at Gretchen Martin's salon. She butchered the long hair I'd spent eighteen years growing.

Because of that, my modeling agency, Elite Looks, which specializes in hair modeling, stepped in immediately. They blacklisted her salon on my behalf.

I never expected that choosing my career, essentially choosing myself, would be the final straw for Connor, causing him to leave me stranded in the wilderness.

And yet, when I finally crawled out of that forest, all dirty, soaked, and exhausted, the very first thing I heard was Connor and his friends laughing.

"That was just a little lesson. Does she really think she's worth that much? Pregnant before marriage, who else would want her but me?"

Right then, I turned around and scheduled an abortion.

——

Sophie's POV

"She's already lost her figure, even her family wants to cut ties with her. And she dares to go up against Gretchen? So what if she lost a bit of hair? Just pay the breach of contract fee. This is what she gets for making things difficult for Gretchen."

I stood in the doorway, trembling, listening to Connor talk as if I weren't even his girlfriend.

It had taken me seven days to hike out of the Appalachian Trail. Seven days with nothing but sweat sticking to my skin, rain soaking my clothes, and mud caking my shoes.

And even then, I still clung to a faint sliver of hope that maybe the man who left me out there wasn't really him.

Then I heard someone say, "Connor, aren't you afraid she won't marry you once she finds out?"

Connor let out a low, cold laugh.

"It doesn't matter whether she finds out or not," he replied, "I'm all she's got. No one else would want her. Besides, she's madly in love with me. It's pathetic, really!"

His words cut like blades, every one sharper than the last.

God, the bastard was so sure I'd never leave him.

I let out a bitter laugh and ran to the nearest convenience store to borrow a phone.

Right then, I called my father.

The line picked up quickly.

"Hello, Dad? It's me, Sophie," I began.

His voice sounded flat and impatient as my father answered. "Why are you still calling me? I already threw your things in the trash can by the door. Get them yourself. Don't call me again. Having a daughter like you is embarrassing."

Before I could say another word, the line went dead.

Connor had been right. No one wanted me anymore.

Even my own father had walked away.

Ten years ago, Connor had rescued me from a snow-covered mountain. I thought he was giving me a second chance at life.

He once told me my eyes were the most beautiful he'd ever seen.

Later, I found out my eyes looked just like Gretchen's.

The truth was, he never actually saw me. Because the truth was, Connor had always been watching her through me.

I walked out into the rain, barefoot, and stepped into the hospital.

"Hi," I said, "I'd like to schedule an abortion."

After a full exam, the doctor looked up, concern in their eyes.

"You're malnourished, your body is very weak, and your uterine wall is thin. You're also quite far along. If you go through with the procedure, it could cause irreversible damage, and you might never be able to get pregnant again."

My face drained of color. My fingers started to shake.

Still, I replied, "Do it."

I couldn't even take care of myself anymore.

How could I bring a child into a world where all they'd know was pain, and where they'd suffer right along with me?

The clinic scheduled the procedure for the following week.

The weight of my decision settled heavily on my chest as I made my way back home, every step slow, my body aching with more than just exhaustion.

When I walked through the door, Connor didn't miss a beat.

He looked at me with nothing but contempt, like I was just an inconvenience he couldn't wait to be rid of.

"Sophie, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?" he said, voice dripping with mockery. "Even with that belly, you still can't behave?"

Meanwhile, his friends stood there, snickering behind their hands.

He'd acted too well. Ten years of performance, and my decade of love had been thrown away like trash.

I didn't say a word and just headed upstairs, straight to my room.

As soon as I got there, I was greeted by a huge wedding sticker still on the bedroom door.

I had nearly forgotten.

We were supposed to get married next month.

That had been his plan all along, hadn't it?

Connor chose a date when I would be visibly pregnant and showing so everyone could see how shameful I was.

A bride who got knocked up before the wedding.

A woman who was stripped of dignity in front of the world.

Sophie's POV

I powered on my phone.

When I opened my agent's messages, I saw she'd done everything in her power to delay the payment deadline for the three-million-dollar breach-of-contract penalty.

All I felt was bitterness.

There was nowhere left to run. I'd hit a dead end.

That night, Connor lay behind me in bed, one hand resting lightly on my belly.

"You and the baby… you're both okay, right?"

I closed my eyes, my voice flat and cold. "Mm."

His hand twitched slightly, like he hadn't expected that kind of answer.

So, I asked, "Connor, do you love me?"

There wasn't even a pause.

"I do," he answered automatically.

Right then, his phone rang.

I heard a gentle, tearful voice come through the speaker.

"Connor, I had that dream again... the one where you leave me. I'm terrified. Please don't get married. Don't leave me, okay?"

As soon as he heard her, his tone became gentle and cautious. "Gretchen, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I'm coming over right now."

Then he hung up and looked over at me. I was still lying there, facing the other way.

"Sophie, quit acting like a kid," he quickly rebutted. "I told you I'd marry you, and I will. Just focus on taking care of yourself and the baby."

Maybe, for once, the consequences had shaken him. Maybe some sliver of guilt managed to creep in. But just like always, Connor left without another word.

In his eyes, I would never compare to her.

Later that night, I got up and opened the photo album on my phone. I scrolled through our memories—the smiles, the snapshots, the moments that felt real. Moments that, at one point, I believed in.

But when I looked closely, I saw something I hadn't noticed before.

Ever since Gretchen came back, Connor and I hadn't taken a single picture together.

Not one.

That midnight, I saw Gretchen's latest post on her social feed.

One photo showed Connor out driving around the city at 2 a.m., picking up her favorite food. Then, another showed his silhouette in the kitchen, cooking for her in the dark.

He never did any of that for me and always told me to be more understanding.

And I was. I never asked for much. I never asked for anything.

It turned out that he didn't like considerate women.

He didn't feel the same passion and intensity for me as he had for Gretchen.

As I felt his betrayal creeping in, I grabbed the printed photos we still had and began tearing them up, bit by bit, until my hands were covered in tiny cuts from the sharp edges.

They felt like all the little wounds Connor had left on me over the years. The ones he thought didn't matter.

...

The next morning, I ripped down every wedding sticker and decoration from the walls.

And then I heard the key turn in the front door.

It was Gretchen Martin.

"Sophie, look at you now, what do you even have to fight me with?"

Inwardly, I couldn't help but think, 'God, this bitch's audacity is so blatant!'

Knowing Gretchen, I wasn't surprised to see her at all.

"Mm. Did you need something?" I asked, my voice cold.

She answered, "Sophie, if this really bothers you, I won't move in. I just wanted to help take care of you. Connor said you haven't been feeling well lately."

Suddenly, the bitch switched tones, playing innocent. I figured Connor must've been nearby.

Without warning, her fingernail jabbed hard into my belly, pressing right against the slight swell.

I flinched on instinct, throwing my hands over my stomach and shoving her away.

Then, I screamed as her head struck the edge of the table with a sickening thud. Blood flowed down her cheek in a thin, red line.

"Gretchen!"

Connor burst in, suitcase still in hand.

He dropped everything and rushed over to her.

"What the hell, Sophie?" he snapped, glaring at me like I was the villain.

Gretchen put on that innocent look, her voice shaky and sweet. "I'm okay, Connor. Maybe Sophie's just tired and emotional from the pregnancy. Please don't be mad at her. It was my fault. I startled her."

Her voice cracked, tears spilling down her cheeks, mixing with the blood.

"Sophie, seriously? Was that necessary?" Connor shot at me, finger pointed like I'd crossed some huge line. "You've gone after Gretchen over and over. Can't you just let it go for once?"

Connor then turned his back to me.

"Don't be mad at Sophie," Gretchen added softly. "Maybe it was just an accident. What matters is that I'm okay, right?"

She then tugged gently on his sleeve, her expression soft and forgiving, like she was the very picture of empathy and kindness.

God, the bitch looked just like the sweet, selfless girl.

'What a hypocrite!' I said to myself.

Still, even with all of Gretchen's fake little act, Connor bought every second of it.

He turned back to me and said, "You need to stop freaking out all the time. If something was going on between me and Gretchen..."

Connor trailed off, giving me a look.

"Just look at yourself. The way you are now. What do you even have that stacks up against her?"

Sophie's POV

Faced with Connor's accusations, I didn't say a word.

If this had happened earlier in our relationship, I probably would have already apologized and maybe even begged for his forgiveness, thinking it would somehow fix things.

But not anymore. And definitely, never again.

Connor stared at me for a while, clearly thrown off by how quiet I was. There was this moment, a flicker in his eyes, like he couldn't figure me out.

He seemed confused that I wasn't crying, arguing, or pleading as I had before.

"Are you done? I'm tired."

That was all I said before I turned and walked off to the bedroom.

I didn't feel the need to explain myself, and I wasn't afraid of anyone walking away—not even him.

...

Later that night, Connor came into the room and lay down next to me like nothing had even happened.

He slipped his arms around me like everything was fine.

"Sophie, I've just been so drained lately. Can you please just not start anything with Gretchen? The wedding's in a month. I meant what I said. I'll give you everything I promised, okay?"

Connor nuzzled into my hair, one hand drifting down, lightly brushing over my stomach.

"Mm."

That was all I could manage—a flat and distant reply.

Because the truth was, I didn't want the wedding anymore.

I didn't want the baby. I didn't want any of it or anything that tied me to him.

Whatever Connor thought he owed me, he could keep it.

None of it meant a damn thing now.

...

The next day, Connor brought both me and Gretchen to one of his friends' get-togethers.

He told me I would be more comfortable in the backseat. So I closed my eyes and listened as he and Gretchen chatted and laughed up front like some perfect couple from a shared past.

They talked about old memories, their voices bubbling with inside jokes and stories that belonged to just the two of them.

I wasn't part of it. Never had been.

And honestly, compared to before, I didn't even feel angry anymore.

Just numb.

Like I'd given up trying to fight for my place beside him. For my place at all.

When we got to the private room, I already knew what kind of crowd we'd be walking into.

The usual crowd. Connor's drinking buddies were many of whom were also longtime friends of Gretchen's.

"Well, would you look at that? The main chick and the side chick are showing up together!" one of the guys cracked the joke with a big grin.

"Don't be ridiculous," Gretchen answered quickly, smiling sweetly as she covered her face like she was embarrassed. "Sophie's the one carrying his child. How could I possibly compare to her? It's not what you guys think."

She didn't look upset at all. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying it.

Connor gave a halfhearted frown. "That's enough."

He turned toward me and pulled out a chair.

"Sophie, sit here."

Then, without missing a beat, he pulled out a seat for Gretchen, too.

When the drinks came around, the server reached to pour Gretchen a glass of wine.

Connor shut it down right away.

"Don't pour for her. Gretchen turns bright red when she drinks."

I glanced at my own glass. It was already full.

I smiled a little, but it didn't touch my eyes.

Then someone suggested a game. "Hey, let's spin the bottle! Whoever it landed on had to do a dare."

Everyone agreed, and the bottle spun and landed on Gretchen first.

Connor's friends leaned in, excitedly curious.

"Pick someone to eat a cookie with!" one of the guys called out, already laughing. "Like that Pocky game!"

Gretchen let out a shy little giggle and covered her mouth, like all the attention was just too much.

Then she slowly lifted her finger and pointed at Connor. "Connor, will you do it with me?"

He glanced at me.

Seeing that my expression was calm, Connor replied, "Sure."

Their faces drew closer and closer, as the cheers around them grew louder.

Everyone was having a great time.

I sat there quietly, one hand resting on my belly, the other folded in my lap.

It felt as if I had disappeared and everyone had forgotten I was the woman Connor was supposed to marry.

After the cookie game, Connor's ears were tinged red, and someone teased him from across the table.

"Connor, man, it's such a shame you two never tied the knot! I always thought you would. You're perfect together. And dude, I still remember all that crazy stuff you did for Gretchen back in the day."

Connor shot him a sharp and cold look. "Hey!"

The guy shut up immediately.

Then Connor reached across the table and took my hand.

He tried to reassure me by saying, "Sophie, don't mind them. They're just messing around."

I met his eyes and gave him a faint smile. "It's fine. I don't mind."

Seeing my reaction, he nodded in satisfaction with my answer.

The bottle spun again.

This time, it landed on me.

I looked up and felt every pair of eyes in the room land on me, waiting like they were watching the next scene in a sitcom.

"How about this?" one guy said with a grin. "Sophie, why don't you do a kangaroo boxing impression? That would be hilarious. Your hair kinda looks like fur already, and you've got a joey in your pouch. You even have the body type for it."

The table erupted in laughter.