I had been so eager to surprise him.

Chase had smiled that day, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. Pressing his forehead against mine, he whispered with all the tenderness in the world. “Helen, from now on, all you have to do in this house is lean on me and take care of our child.”

His eyes had been so sincere, filled with love—or so I thought. Tears welled up in my eyes as I recalled how he had proposed just the day before, sliding a wedding ring onto my finger. But now, those memories were tainted. The only image burned into my mind was that of his cold scalpel, piercing my chest.

The wound throbbed with phantom pain, raw and unrelenting. Trembling, I grabbed the pregnancy test report, tearing it into shreds. The pieces fluttered to the floor like fallen leaves. A murderer had no right to be a father. Chase didn’t deserve to know he had a child on the way.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen, burning like a thousand needles. When I looked down, I saw a saffron-colored stain spreading on my dress. My hands trembled as panic gripped me. I had been pushing myself too hard. My overthinking had taken its toll—not just on me, but on the life growing inside me. Without hesitation, I dialed for an ambulance. But the moment the paramedics arrived, I regretted my decision.

Standing at the doorway was none other than Chase’s best friend, Adam Reid.

When Chase and I bought our apartment, we had chosen a place near the hospital where he worked. It hadn’t crossed my mind until now how that decision might backfire.

Adam was hard to miss, even in a crowd. Dressed in a pristine white coat and wearing his signature gold-rimmed glasses, his tall, commanding figure stood out effortlessly.

For a moment, he froze, his gaze locking onto mine. Then, like flipping a switch, his expression turned cold.

“She’s pregnant. Get her to the hospital immediately,” he barked at the other paramedics.

***

I lay on the hospital bed as Adam methodically prepared the ultrasound equipment. He moved the detector over my stomach, his voice calm but distant.

“Breathe in.”

“Hold it.”

“Breathe out.”

His tone was clinical, yet his fingertips were unexpectedly warm, brushing against my skin just enough to send shivers down my spine. The air between us felt strangely charged, though neither of us acknowledged it.

When he finished, Adam straightened and walked out of the room without a word.

Adam and Chase had been college roommates and while I knew they were close, Adam and I had rarely interacted. Chase had always described him as solitary and aloof, someone who preferred keeping others at arm’s length.

Whenever we crossed paths, I was usually the one offering polite greetings while Adam responded with a curt nod, if anything at all.

When Adam returned, his forehead was damp, a stray lock of hair clinging to his skin.

“There’s nothing wrong with the baby,” he said, his voice steady. “This is your first pregnancy, so you need to take extra care during the first four months. Don’t stress yourself out.”

I nodded, my lips barely moving. But before he could leave, I grabbed his wrist.

“Adam, please... don’t tell Chase about the baby.”

His brows furrowed slightly, and for a moment, he seemed caught off guard. Then he nodded, his expression softening just enough to hint at understanding. “You should stay overnight for observation. You can leave tomorrow morning,” he said simply before walking away.

***

The next morning, Adam accompanied me out of the hospital. Just as I was about to thank him, I froze.

At the hospital entrance, standing beside a sleek black Mercedes, were two familiar figures.

Chase was guiding Grace, his hand on her lower back, his body angled protectively toward hers. The way they walked together was intimate, far too close for mere friends. Before I could fully process what I was seeing, a pair of hands covered my eyes, and I was pulled aside.

Adam’s voice was low and firm. “Don’t look.”

I stayed frozen in place, listening as Chase and Grace’s laughter drifted through the air, growing softer until it disappeared entirely.

“Grace, soon you’ll be fully recovered,” I heard Chase say before they moved out of earshot.

My phone buzzed, pulling me back to the present. It was a message from Chase.

The text was accompanied by a selfie of him in his hospital office, smiling like nothing had happened.

[I’m at the hospital. Make something nice for lunch and wait for me, okay?]

I stared at the screen, bile rising in my throat. Grace’s figure had been completely absent from the photo, but I knew better.

Chase must have taken my phone yesterday and undone the block I’d placed on his number.

It wasn’t the first time he’d crossed boundaries like that. Ever since we started dating, we’d shared all our passwords and login details. I used to think it was romantic, a sign of trust and intimacy.

Now, it felt like chains.

It had been Chase who made the first move.

With deep emotion, he had promised me. “Since it’s you, Helen, everything I have—my salary, my car, the house—belongs to you.”

At the time, those words felt like a vow, binding us together. But now, I see it differently. The material things might be mine, but his heart? His heart was like a flower, with petals plucked and scattered, given to someone else.

The realization left me feeling hollow.

Adam had always been observant. Perhaps he had pieced everything together without me saying much, as he offered, “I can take you home.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going home. I want a divorce.”

***

Later, I went to the civil affairs office to retrieve the divorce papers. I slipped them into a folder, along with the organ donation form I had signed.

Before heading back, I took a picture of the dishes I had carefully laid out on the table. Then, I sent Chase a message. [Chase, I’ll be waiting for you.]

Chase would never willingly divorce me—not without a fight. And even if he agreed, he would never let go of the child I carried. I didn’t want his property, but the child’s right to support was something I had to secure.

Chase didn’t keep me waiting for long.

He rushed home, arriving in just minutes, carrying a box of pastries—my favorite.

“Helen, I know how much you love these,” he said with a warm smile as he kissed my forehead.

He didn’t notice anything unusual about my demeanor. He assumed, as always, that I was just upset, and that his affection and small gestures would smooth things over.

It had worked in the past—after all, Chase was a master of placating me with sweet words, tender kisses and little gifts. He had always known how to lull me back into complacency.

That evening, he tried to set the mood. Closing the curtains and lighting candles, he filled the room with the air of romance and ritual. “Close your eyes,” he instructed.

When I opened them again, I saw a delicate Van Cleef & Arpels four-leaf clover necklace dangling from my neck. He must have gone through my online shopping cart again.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, keeping my tone neutral.

The candlelight danced across both our faces, casting flickering shadows that felt like ghosts of the truth I was hiding.

“Honey, there’s something else,” Chase said. He pulled out a folder and placed a stack of papers on the table in front of me. At the top was an insurance agreement.

Placing a pen in my hand, he spoke with a heartfelt expression. “Helen, if anything ever happens to me, I want this agreement to ensure you have a smooth life.”

He was careful to show me only the page he wanted me to sign, too preoccupied to notice that I had already swapped it out for the divorce agreement.

I took the pen, signed my name without hesitation, and handed it back to him.

“Your turn, Chase,” I said softly.

He smiled, signed his name without reading a word, and set the folder aside without a second thought. Relief washed over me.

***

That night, Chase used the excuse of a work emergency to leave again. I knew exactly where he was going, Grace’s side.

He took the folder with him, completely unaware of the papers it contained.

Four years of effort—all the time I had invested in this relationship—had finally come to this moment. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I had once fought to win his heart, but now, I was ready to walk away.

With Chase preoccupied, I finally had some breathing room to tie up the remaining loose ends. Canceling my phone number, finalizing the divorce proceedings, and preparing for the next chapter of my life...

I clutched the signed divorce agreement in one hand and my plane ticket to Canada in the other. Then, I dialed a number I hadn’t used before.

“Adam, can you pick me up now?”

His reply was as curt as ever. “Okay.”

Before hanging up, I added quickly, “And thank you... for letting me stay at your place.”

Adam’s tone didn’t change. “Don’t mention it. The house in Canada is just sitting there. It might as well be put to use.” I chuckled softly, amused by how serious he sounded even when being generous.

As I ended the call, my eyes scanned the apartment one last time. The space felt empty now—empty of my presence, my memories, my love. I had erased every trace of myself from this place. A pang of sadness struck me as I imagined Chase returning tomorrow to find the apartment bare. What would his expression be when he realized I was gone? I didn’t know. And for the first time, I didn’t care.

I wondered what Chase’s face would look like when he opened the envelope and saw the divorce papers.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I left everything else behind. The only thing that remained in that house was the diamond ring he had given me. Even under the pale glow of the moonlight, the diamond looked dull, its brilliance snuffed out along with our relationship.