The day I had a miscarriage, my boyfriend was nowhere to be found. That night, his female friend posted a picture of them with a marriage certificate showing both their faces.

"Legally binding, through thick and thin," she wrote.

He quickly commented below, "First time with me, it'll be smooth sailing."

A bunch of people left comments congratulating them. Some oblivious colleagues even sent me gift cards as wedding presents.

I clenched my teeth through the pain and returned each one, leaving a simple comment, "Wishing you both joy and happiness."

The post was deleted almost immediately.

Then, the boyfriend who had been missing all day called me directly.

"What's your problem? Making her cry and acting like you're my wife when I haven't even married you yet. Know your place."

In the ten years we'd been together, I'd lost count of how many times this had happened. Every time he sobered up, he'd say it was all just a drunken joke.

The outcome was always the same—I'd break down in tears, then swallow the pain and carry on. But this time, I'd had enough.

When Bentley finally came back, I was still lying on the couch wrapped in a blanket. The fresh pain from the procedure was tearing through my abdomen. He stormed in, not even taking off his coat, and started berating me.

"Madeline, what did you comment last night?"

"We're all part of the same circle; Audrey's like a sister to me!"

"How's she supposed to hold her head high after being mistaken for the other woman?"

I stayed silent while he ranted on.

"To make it up to her, I've given her an easy job at the company. You need to put out a post clarifying that we've broken up."

"Otherwise, I can't promise I'll show up the next time we're supposed to get married."

Bentley's bailed 99 times when we were supposed to get married. The first time, Audrey had cramps and he ran off to get her some medicine. The second time, she had a fever, and he left me standing outside a registry office 30 miles away. The third time, she cried alone in a cinema after being scared by a horror movie. The fifth time, the sixth…

We'd been together for ten years, and he had abandoned me 99 times. This time was the hundredth.

"Marry you? Not necessary anymore."

I let out a cold laugh and looked calmly out the window. Bentley suddenly remembered something, his gaze shifting to my stomach.

"Don't say such things, you're pregnant, right? Here, have some warm soup. Did you catch a chill last night?"

He handed me a takeout container of thin, unappealing soup. Bits of shrimp and leftover celery floated in it. I lowered my eyes to my phone. Audrey had tried to add me dozens of times since morning. I hadn't accepted.

Just then, Bentley added me to a group chat of six people. In it were five guys he'd known since childhood, and Audrey, the lone girl.

The group name was "Audrey's Knights."

I had just entered the chat when Audrey immediately sent a voice message, her voice thick with drunken tears.

"Please don't misunderstand, Maddie. What Bentley and I did was just a joke after getting drunk."

The others chimed in right away.

"What's the big deal? Does our Audrey have to apologize herself?"

"Exactly, I think someone doesn't need to be a princess to act like one."

"It was just us messing around; we've known each other for years, what's there to fuss about?"

"Audrey, don't get upset. Why apologize? Does she deserve it?"

"If someone wanted to hook up, they would have by now. What's it got to do with you?"

"Where's Bentley? Is he dead or what? Why let the little girl take all the blame?"

Audrey's public profile wasn't private. Her latest post was a grid of nine photos updated just recently, captions filled with sweet pride:

"Officially a newlywed! What's better than a bowl of seafood soup made by your hubby after a long night?"

Bentley hadn't checked his phone, busying himself with the takeout. The smell of overnight seafood soup was overwhelming. I had always had an allergy to seafood, and the smell alone was enough to make me gag.

"Ugh—"

Bentley grimaced.

"Why so fussy, getting sick over a bit of soup?"

"Even if you don't want it, you should think about the baby."

"The baby is gone."

I answered coldly, suppressing the surge of hatred while clutching the corner of the blanket tightly until my knuckles turned white.

He paused, his face drained of its usual calm, replaced by panic.

"How could it be?"

I stared out at the deepening night, unwilling to utter another word.

His face turned pale as he finally looked up with reddened eyes. Softening his voice, he knelt down in front of me, trying to explain.

"Last night was because Audrey broke up; she wanted me to go get married with her just to spite her ex. It was all just childish antics; we'll go for a divorce in a few days."

"After Thanksgiving, we'll get married! Don't worry, there'll be more kids."

His slender fingers clutched mine, pressing his face to my palm.

That perfect face and lush lashes fluttering over red eyes—how many times had they been adored? I had wasted ten years because of how much I was drawn to a look like his.

Once, seeing this face would have made me melt. But now, I felt nothing.

"Don't be upset anymore. If you don't want soup, let's go out and get something to eat."

He pulled me up and towards the car. As he opened the passenger door, a strong wave of perfume wafted out at me. A pair of pink lace panties hooked onto my coat fell out.

Bentley's face went pale.

"Audrey wanted to change into some dress after getting the certificate, and there was no place so late, so I just…"

I remained unmoved, while he fidgeted, uncomfortable as if sitting on pins and needles. He glanced at me, promising again.

"I'll handle it. Next week, Monday, as soon as the registry opens, I'll take her for the divorce."

The silence in the car was suffocating.

Unable to take it any longer, he frowned, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

The smoke coiled around him, and finally, irritation marred his features as it spilled out.

"If you didn't know, you'd think the child died inside you. If I didn't, I'd think you were mute."

"Are you angry or not? Can't you say something?"

I managed a weak smile as I looked at the sticker on the passenger seat that read, "Audrey's Princess Seat." A quiet laugh escaped me. Last night, as I was recovering from a miscarriage, a friend sent me a TikTok video, commenting, "Maddie, doesn't this car look just like Bentley's?" In the images, Audrey Simmons had her bare feet kicked up on the dashboard, alongside a bouquet of red roses and a diamond ring that sparkled. The captions on the photos boasted: "At 22, only riding in a Mercedes' passenger seat," and "Grateful to the woman who shared countless bus rides with him; thankfully, that’s not my burden."

I had spent ten years with Bentley, saving every penny until we could finally afford a car just before our planned marriage. It was brand new, fresh off the lot yesterday, and this was my first time sitting in it. But one call from Audrey, and Bentley ditched me halfway to pick up our marriage license. The freezing December rain turned everything to ice.

I collapsed at the roadside, watching as dark red blood slowly spread around me, while he was off with his buddy, causing a stir about obtaining the license, and never came back that night. Already drained from heavy bleeding, I felt another trickle. Pale as a ghost, I opened the door and made my way home. Bentley, perhaps feeling guilty, followed me, his head hung low.

"I'm here with you," he muttered, helping me to the sofa, bringing water for my feet, and preparing sliced fruit. His attentiveness was as genuine as ever, though it was hard to see him as the same man who had left me behind the night before. His kindness used to be unwavering. Until he tasted success.

That's when the photos with other women started appearing on my phone. He constantly denied any wrongdoing, dismissing those women as trivial. Yet, the marriage license remained elusive. A woman’s best years don't last forever. Ten years passed in the blink of an eye.

Eventually, I didn’t want it anymore.

In the stillness of night, I lay with my back to him, pain coursing through my abdomen. As the agony became too much to bear, I struggled to my feet to call for a taxi to the hospital.

"What’s wrong? I'll take you," Bentley said, surprisingly alert as he grabbed my coat. Then, his phone started to ring incessantly. He always answered calls on speaker when I was around. Until Audrey’s tearful voice broke the night’s silence, "Darling, I tried to make you a sandwich, but I cut my finger, it's bleeding, I'm really scared."

Bentley's coat slipped from his grip; his expression changed immediately. "Does it hurt? I told you, cooking isn’t your thing! Why try?" he scolded softly. "I’m coming over now, stay put, okay?"

He glanced at me, struggling to read my expression. "Maddie, we just got the marriage license, Audrey's not used to it yet, don't take it to heart, she's just playing around."

"I need to go to the hospital," I repeated, grabbing his sleeve, almost blinded by pain.

He hesitated, but the texts from Audrey were relentless. Her soft cries hit Bentley's heart like gentle rain. Tenderness for her filled his eyes. My attempt to hold him back was met with a rough push as he stormed past.

"Get out of the way!" he snapped, shoving me hard. I crumpled by the wardrobe, a vase crashing into my stomach, the taste of blood filling my mouth.

"Bentley, don’t go," I begged, but he was already out of sight, with only his coat, leaving anger and frustration in his wake.

"Maddie, will you ever quit?" His fury exploded. "Audrey's injured, what are you trying to prove with someone seven or eight years younger?"

"She's hurt because of me," his voice dripped with contempt. "How can you be so heartless, wanting her to bleed out for your satisfaction?"

I was speechless, my breath ragged. He continued, relentless. "It’s not like she stole your bride spot. Another day won’t matter, right? You’ve waited ten years, what’s one more?"

My attempt to stand went unnoticed until he saw the blood pooling beneath me. His eyes flickered with surprise before irritation creased his brow.

"Really? You’d harm yourself just to keep me from leaving? Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed.

"Take the car keys," I interjected, tossing them at him. Bentley stood silent.

Awkwardly, he paused before softly saying, "Wait for me. I’ll be back soon." He hurried out, not even bothering to wear his coat properly.

It was nearly dawn when I regained consciousness, realizing I had been sprawled on the cold floor for an unknown length of time. Blood had soaked my pants, a mix of fear and sorrow gnawing at my heart. I dragged myself to the door, knocking on my neighbor’s door.

"Maddie, oh my God!" was the last thing I heard before blacking out.