I sat there in a daze until deep into the night. Only when the cold began to settle into my bones did I finally drag myself home.

But no matter how many times I tried, the code to the front door didn't work.

Just as frustration began to crawl up my spine, the door opened from the inside—and there she was.

Erica.

She was wearing my nightgown.

"What are you doing in my house?"

She blinked at me innocently, her voice soft and aggrieved. "Lucy… are you still angry with me? If you want, I'll leave."

Before I could respond, she buried her face into Reece's chest, who had just come around the corner.

"Erica needs to stay here while she carries the baby," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "She's due soon. I don't feel comfortable with her out there alone."

I stared at him. "You changed the door code. I couldn't get in. You didn't answer your phone."

"Oh… sorry, I forgot to tell Lucy. Reece told me to change it," Erica said, glancing up at him like a child caught stealing candy. "He was worried that someone with bad intentions might show up while I was alone and scare me."

And then, incredibly, she began to cry.

"I was the one locked out," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why are you the one crying?"

I couldn't stand to hear Reece comforting her in that saccharine voice of his. I turned away and walked straight to the bedroom.

The door was open. On the nightstand sat a framed photograph of Reece and Erica. Shoulder to shoulder, sitting under the northern lights, a little red heart drawn in the corner of the print. They were smiling.

Four years ago, I had begged Reece to take me to see the aurora. I even filled out his polar expedition application form myself. But he told me my health couldn't handle the trip, that it was too dangerous.

I asked again and again. Just to visit. Just to see the lights. But each time, he told me work was too busy. And yet… he'd gone with her.

This wasn't my home anymore.

I turned and walked down the hall to the nursery—the room I'd once prepared for our twins.

Gone.

Everything was gone.

The crib. The tiny clothes. The stuffed animals. Vanished. As though they'd never existed.

"Where are my babies' things?" I whispered, my heart thudding in my throat. "Where are they?"

I began searching the room in a daze, flinging open drawers, sweeping aside boxes.

Then, in the corner trash bin, I saw them: the torn remains of ultrasound prints. My babies' first and only images—ripped into confetti.

"No…" I dropped to my knees, gathering the shreds, pressing them to my chest. "My children… my babies…"

My sobs clawed through the silence.

Reece came running up the stairs. He found me crumpled on the floor and wrapped his arms around me without a word. His eyes scanned the nursery, now stripped and reassembled. He froze. Then turned to Erica, who stood hesitating in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, like a child confessing to a small sin. "Did I do something wrong again? You told me I could decorate however I wanted. I just wanted to prepare a room for our baby…"

"Where did you put my children's things?" I screamed. "Tell me where they are! Find them!"

This woman hadn't just killed my children—she had erased them.

I lunged at Erica, gripping her shoulders. "Where are they!?"

"Reece! Help!" she shrieked. "Lucy's gone mad! She's going to hurt me!"

Reece shoved me away.

"I always ruin everything," Erica said through tears, her pale face scrunched in distress. "I didn't mean any harm…"

"Lucy," Reece said, "they're gone. The twins… they're not here anymore. Keeping all that stuff—it's not helping you. It's only hurting you more."

"You got her pregnant behind my back. You moved her into my house. Now you're taking the last memories I had of my children? Have you no shame? You're both disgusting!"

I shoved him off, but he clamped down hard on my wrist, unwilling to let go.

Then—

Slap.

The blow came out of nowhere.

My ears rang. My vision blurred. A sharp, metallic taste rose in my throat.

And then Erica spoke—softly, tearfully, with perfect innocence.

"Lucy… how could you talk to Reece like that? You need to come to your senses. I know you're hurting. But the twins have been gone for so long. Those things... I threw them out. You don't want us—or the baby—to be surrounded by such negativity every day, do you?"

Erica's voice was soft, but every word drove into me like a knife.

My mind went blank. Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring everything. I didn't think—I just tore myself from Reece's grip and stumbled down the stairs, barely able to keep upright.

Outside, the rain was coming down hard, but I didn't care. I ran through the courtyard to the neighborhood garbage depot and began rummaging, bag by bag, looking for anything that had once belonged to my children.

"Lucy, wake up. They're gone. The kids are gone. Doing this isn't going to change anything," Reece said as he held an umbrella over me, trying to pull me into his arms. "Come home with me."

"My children are still alive in my heart," I said, my voice breaking. "You already have a new child. Maybe you've moved on—but I haven't!"

"I haven't forgotten either. But what do you want from me? To live the rest of my life drowned in grief and depression?" His grip on the umbrella tightened until his knuckles whitened.

He continued, "You keep going on and on. Do you know how hard this is on Erica? She's carrying my child, Lucy. She's been putting up with whispers and stares just to give birth to this baby. Her situation's hard enough as it is."

"You three can go home and play happy family. Leave me out of it," I spat.

I didn't want to hear his voice anymore. I kept digging through trash, ignoring the blood now trickling from my scraped fingers.

"I found it," I whispered.

From the depths of a torn black trash bag, I pulled out a familiar shape—a Barbie doll I had once bought for my daughter. I clutched it to my chest like a lost relic, a lifeline to the past.

"I found it, sweetheart. Mommy found your doll. Your clothes, your blanket, your toys... I have them all now," I said, pressing the filthy bag to me as if I were cradling my children themselves.

"That's enough!" Reece barked. "You've really lost it!"

He snatched the bag from my arms and threw it to the ground. Then he grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him.

"Lucy. Our kids died four years ago. They were never even born. They're gone!"

Yes, they were long gone.

In all these years, Reece had never once mentioned them. Maybe he had truly forgotten. But I hadn't. I couldn't.

"I just wanted to keep something of theirs," I said quietly, trying to make him understand. "If I forget them too, then no one in this world will remember those poor, innocent children."

"When Erica gives birth, her job is done. She told me herself—she doesn't want a title, doesn't want any inheritance. She won't bother us after that. Then you'll have a real child, Lucy. One that's truly yours. You'll be his only mother. You can buy him toys, love him with everything you have. But you have to stop living like this. I know what happened broke you. Don't think I don't care. I care more than anyone. All I ever wanted was to give you a real home."

He held me tight, pressing my face into his shoulder. His hand gently patted my back.

"I love you, Lucy. I don't want to see you like this anymore."

Then he kissed my forehead.

He was just about to drape his coat over my shoulders when he caught sight of Erica in the distance, standing in the rain, drenched and looking pitiful.

At once, he turned from me and ran to her.

"Why did you come out in this rain?" he scolded, voice full of worry. "You're pregnant, Erica! You can't be out here like this."

"I'm sorry, Reece. I was just worried. You'd been gone so long... I thought something happened," she said, clinging to his waist.

Reece stroked her hair and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"I'll take her back first," he said to me. "She's pregnant. If she stays in the rain any longer, she'll get sick. Just wait for me."

I bent down and picked up the items from the trash.

"If it really means that much to you... you can bring them back. I won't stop you," he said hesitantly, glancing toward Erica.

"No need. You're right. These things don't mean anything anymore."

"That's better. You've always been so good at listening to me. Once the baby's born, you can spoil him. We'll buy him the best toys."

The rain finally let up, as if it had washed away the obsession I had been clinging to all these years.

Reece was right, I suppose.

I had spent so long guarding those old memories, keeping them safe as if they could change the past. Who was I fooling?

But the Reece who had asked me to wait for him never came back.

"My babies... from now on, you'll live quietly in my heart. I'll never wait for Reece ever again. He doesn't deserve my love."

Upon returning home, I found Reece in the kitchen, crafting a mango cake for Erica. He'd never ventured into culinary endeavors before, let alone baking.

"Erica had a craving for mango cake," he explained. "I didn't want the baby to go hungry, so I decided to make one. Would you like a taste?"

"Reece is the best to my baby," Erica chimed in, her smile smug. "He said you could find your way back; he wanted to make the cake himself, didn't trust anyone else to do it right."

I ignored them and ascended the stairs. Reece had forgotten my allergy to mangoes.

The next morning, Erica barged into my room, her pregnant belly leading the way.

"When are you moving out? You're divorcing Reece anyway. Staying here, watching him care for me—doesn't it hurt?"

I tried to rise, but dizziness overtook me. My breathing quickened, and a fever flushed my face.

"You should be sensible. You've miscarried and can't give Reece a child. You're unnecessary here."

Erica had taken my children, and now she sought to erase me entirely. Reece always excused her behavior, indulging her whims without question. I was just an outsider now.

"Lucy, what's wrong?" Reece appeared, concern in his eyes. He reached out, but Erica feigned a faint, collapsing into his arms.

"Call a doctor!" he shouted, cradling her, not sparing me another glance.

The housekeeper said, "Please wait a moment, Ms. Malcolm. Have some water. The doctor is coming."

I drifted into unconsciousness. The promised doctor never arrived.

By evening, I awoke and checked my phone. Reece, once averse to social media, had posted a photo: Erica, radiant with a wine glass, surrounded by his friends on a countryside retreat.

When I was pregnant, Reece claimed I was too cumbersome, too picky, a damper on any outing. I stayed home alone. Now, he paraded Erica, pregnant, before his circle.

I had been feverish for a day and night, too weak to move. The housekeeper found me unconscious and rushed me to the hospital, then called Reece.

"Didn't I say not to disturb me unless it's urgent?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's Madam... she's unconscious, burning with fever."

Reece's tone shifted instantly. "What? Lucy? She's in critical condition?"

He dropped everything and instructed the driver, "To the hospital, now. As fast as possible."