Regret Me Not

At nine months pregnant, I suffered an unexpected miscarriage.

My husband, Graham Pearson, fought back his own grief as he comforted me. He would whisper to me every day, trying to soothe my shattered heart, "Whitney, we will have children again someday. Our little angel was here for a while, and next time, we'll make sure we hold onto them..."

Under Graham's careful care, I slowly began to pull myself out of the numb fog I'd been trapped in.

But then, a month later, I overheard him talking to one of his friends.

"If Whitney finds out the baby didn't actually die and that you've let Cassidy raise him, don't you think she'll flip out? You've worked so hard to get where you are; you can't let this mess it all up."

Graham casually flicked his cigarette, his voice almost detached as he waved a hand dismissively.

"Cassidy can't have kids, but she loves children. If this baby brings her joy, it's a blessing for the child, too.

"I might never get the chance to be with Cassidy, but letting her raise my son, in some way, feels like a kind of fulfillment..."

The truth hit me like a frozen wave, paralyzing me in place.

It turned out this whole ordeal had been part of Graham's plan from the start.

Maybe it was because, ever since the miscarriage, I hadn't stepped outside my bedroom even once.

That must be why Graham Pearson felt safe to speak so freely with his friend.

If I hadn't tried to pull myself together, to make some coffee and bring it to him in the study, I would have remained in the dark, oblivious to everything.

As soon as the voices in the study faded, I fled back to my room hastily.

During our three years of marriage, everyone envied the love and devotion between Graham and me.

Even after the miscarriage, while we were both grieving, Graham still forced himself to smile and stayed by my side day and night, enduring my endless mood swings.

But now, I realized that everything—every tender word, every tear shed—had been part of an act.

From his conversation with his friend, I learned that Graham had always carried a torch for someone named Cassidy Hum.

They had fallen in love during college. Three years ago, Cassidy left to pursue her career in Astriands, chasing bigger dreams.

And that same year, Graham rushed into a marriage with me.

I had thought we were soulmates when, in truth, I had been nothing more than a stand-in, a way for him to forget Cassidy.

When Cassidy returned six months ago, Graham didn't hesitate. He rekindled his feelings for her, and then, without the slightest remorse, handed over my baby like it was some kind of gift.

I stood in my room, stunned, when Graham, having seen his friend off, slipped into the room and wrapped his arms around me from behind with practiced ease.

When he noticed the tear stains on my cheeks, he panicked before he clumsily wiped them away with his fingers.

"Honey, why are you crying?" he asked, his voice tight with worry. "Have I been away too long? I'll tell my friends not to come over anymore, okay? From now on, I'll stay here with you."

Staring into Graham's frantic, seemingly genuine eyes, my vision blurred with a fresh wave of tears.

"Graham," I choked out, "I dreamed our baby was crying… that he was looking for his mommy..."

Graham's hand, midway through wiping my tears, froze in the air.

The next second, he pulled me tightly into his arms.

"Whitney, we'll have another child. We have to move past this accident, okay? You must be exhausted. You should get some sleep."

Listening to Graham's web of lies, I bit down hard on my lower lip where he couldn't see.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of a phone shattered the silence.

Seeing the caller ID, Graham hurried to answer.

"Graham, the baby won't stop crying! I can't calm him down! Can you come over?" A sweet, soft female voice rang out through the receiver.

Graham shot me a startled glance. Only after confirming that I seemed asleep did he slip away into the bathroom to reply in a low voice, "Don't worry, Cassidy. I'm coming right now."

Without a moment's hesitation, he ended the call and rushed out the door.

When the rumble of a car engine echoed from the driveway, I slowly opened my eyes.

Back when I was pregnant, Graham had insisted we install a tracking app on both our phones, just in case something happened to me and he couldn't find me.

Now, using that app, I quietly followed him all the way to Cassidy's place.

Through the towering glass windows, I could clearly see Cassidy holding a baby in her arms, the infant wailing miserably.

Maybe it was the bond of blood, but the sound of the child's cries felt like knives shredding my heart into pieces.

Watching Graham gently soothe the baby while cradling Cassidy in his arms, I finally understood.

Our marriage was truly over.