My husband’s childhood sweetheart lost a game and was punished to reveal the most “in sync” thing between her and Daniel Hayes.

She swirled her glass of wine, but her gaze landed precisely on me:

“Back when you had your first miscarriage, Natalie Evans, Daniel completely broke down. The first person he called was me.”

The room instantly fell silent.

Instinctively, I placed a protective hand over my belly, now swelling again, my heart tightening.

She chuckled lightly, unfazed, and turned to look at my husband:

“You were so fragile back then, Natalie. How could he, a man, burden you even more with his own emotions?”

“I stayed with him all night, crying alongside him, shouldering all his grief. Honestly, Natalie, the fact that you two are still together—I deserve at least half the credit.”

…

“Sophia, you’ve had too much to drink.”

Daniel’s voice broke the dead silence, indulgent and gentle.

He took the glass from Sophia Reed’s hand, his tone soothing, as if he were coaxing a child.

“Don’t talk nonsense. Natalie will take it seriously.”

Sophia leaned against Daniel’s shoulder, laughing with exaggerated sweetness.

“How is it nonsense? Daniel, tell her—aren’t we the most in sync?”

“One glance from you, and I know exactly what you’ll say next.”

“One movement from you, and I know exactly what you’re reaching for.”

Her eyes flicked toward me again, like a blade.

“This kind of connection isn’t something a few years of marriage can give.”

Friends fumbled to ease the tension.

“It’s just a game, Natalie, don’t take it to heart.”

“Yeah, Sophia and Daniel grew up together like siblings.”

Siblings?

I looked at Daniel’s hand resting gently on Sophia’s shoulder, patting her with quiet intimacy, and my stomach turned.

He didn’t even glance at me.

As if my swollen belly, my pale face, were nothing but a backdrop.

I held onto the table and rose slowly.

“I’m not feeling well. I’ll head home first.”

Only then did Daniel frown, looking at me with a hint of reproach.

“Natalie, don’t make a scene. Everyone’s here.”

“Sophia’s just blunt—you’ve known her long enough.”

Yes. I’d known her long enough.

From the very first day I met Daniel, Sophia Reed’s name had been a thorn lodged in my heart.

Everyone said their bond transcended love, that it was like family.

Everyone said I was too sensitive, too petty.

I had tried to believe it once.

But now, all I felt was disgust.

“I’m not making a scene.”

I looked at him, my voice terrifyingly calm.

“I just think I can’t afford this so-called ‘credit’ she claims.”

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Sophia’s voice rang out, aggrieved but tinged with triumph.

“See, Daniel? I told you she’d get upset.”

“It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have told the truth.”

The moment I opened the private room’s door, I heard Daniel’s gentle consolation.

“It’s not your fault. She’s just too sensitive.”

Back home, I collapsed onto the sofa.

The villa was empty and silent. Before long, Daniel returned.

He reeked of alcohol, his expression dark.

“Natalie Evans, what was that tonight?”

He loomed over me, eyes full of disappointment.

“Embarrassing me in front of all our friends—does that make you happy?”

I looked up at him and suddenly found it laughable.

“Embarrass you? Daniel, who exactly embarrassed who?”

“Your so-called soulmate stood there flaunting how she was your first choice in grief, and you think I’m the one humiliating you?”

He yanked at his tie in frustration.

“That was the past! Who else could I turn to then? You were lying in a hospital bed. Should I have told you how devastated I was? Do you even have a heart?”

“Sophia was helping us both by carrying some of my pain. Why can’t you understand that?”

“Natalie, you’ve become more and more unreasonable.”

I stared at his self-righteous face, my heart sinking further with every word.

So, in his eyes, I was the root of all wrongs.

“Yes, I’m unreasonable.”

I laughed, though tears streamed uncontrollably.

“Then tell me—just how much more of this so-called ‘connection’ do you two share that I don’t know about?”

My words only agitated him further.

“Natalie Evans! Must you twist everything into a fight?”

“Twist?” I wiped my tears away and glared at him.

“Fine. Let’s count—just how much of this home was built on Sophia Reed’s ‘credit’?”

That finally broke his composure. His excuses tumbled out like beans spilling from a bag.

“You want to know? Fine! I’ll tell you!”

“This house? Sophia helped me pick out every detail in the décor! She said she understood my taste better than anyone else, knew exactly what I liked!”

My chest tightened sharply.

I remembered complimenting him back then, and how smugly he’d accepted the praise.

“The first lipstick I ever gave you? Sophia picked that shade! She said your fair skin would look best with it!”

So the first gift I cherished had been tainted from the start.

I clenched my fists, nails biting deep into my palms.

“And even our wedding rings—when I couldn’t decide, it was—”

He froze mid-sentence, realizing too late what he’d admitted.

“Natalie, don’t overthink it. They were just little things.”

“She’s just… just like family.”

He reached out to hold me, but I shoved him away.

“Don’t touch me.”

I backed away step by step.

“Daniel, I used to just suspect.”

“Now I’m certain. You truly disgust me.”

That night, I locked myself in the study, sleepless.

By morning, a thought I’d suppressed for years resurfaced—Daniel’s locked wooden box on top of his bookshelf.

He always said it held memories from his student days, off-limits to me.

I had respected his privacy once. But now, I only wanted to know what secrets lay inside.

I dragged over a stool and pulled the box down.

The lock was simple—I picked it easily with a hairpin.

The lid creaked open.

On top lay an old hospital wristband, the plastic yellowed with age.

Written on it in black marker was my name—Natalie Evans.

Beside it lay a wilted, blackened white lily and a stack of journals.

At the bottom rested a delicate silver bracelet, sized for a newborn baby.

On its pendant was engraved a single word.

—Grace.

My breath caught.

“She’ll be Grace,” Daniel had once whispered in my ear, holding me close.

“Grace, for a safe and peaceful life.”

The name of the child we never got to meet.

All at once, the grief I had buried and forced myself to forget surged like a broken dam, drowning me.

So he had prepared something for that child.

With trembling hands, I lifted the cold bracelet and opened the journal.

The handwriting was Daniel’s—bold and heavy.

I turned to the first page.

June 12, Rain. The baby is gone. My heart died with her. Natalie is so weak, I can’t cry in front of her. I’m afraid it’ll hurt her more. So I hide outside, pounding the walls over and over.

June 13, Clear skies. Sophia came. She didn’t say a word, just held me. Finally, I could sob freely. To be understood—it feels so good. Her embrace was warm, like a beam of light.

June 15. Sophia gave me a bouquet of white lilies. She said lilies mean ‘strength’ and ‘eternal love.’ She promised she’d always be there for me.

My gaze drifted to the dried flower in the box. My heart felt plunged into ice water.

I turned another page.

July 1. I find myself relying on Sophia more and more. Only with her can I forget the pain for a while. Whenever I see Natalie, I only think of the child we lost. Between us, there is only silence and tears.

Drip.

My tears splattered onto the page, blurring the ink.

Soulmate.

Fate’s arrangement.

So my darkest, most agonizing days had become the soil for their love to bloom.

My tragedy was the most romantic backdrop for their story.

I laughed, bitter tears streaming uncontrollably.

“What are you doing!”

Daniel burst into the room, snatching the journal from my hands.

His face turned ashen when he saw the open box.

“Who told you to touch my things? Natalie Evans, do you have no respect, no boundaries?”

His eyes were bloodshot, like a beast defending its territory.

I stared back at him, my voice steady and cutting.

“Daniel, is everything in here true?”

His gaze darted away, unable to meet mine.

“You had no right to read my journal! That was my privacy—my pain! Who gave you the right—”

“Your pain?” I cut him off, my voice sharp, almost unrecognizable.

“Your pain was holding another woman, falling into ‘eternal love’ with her? What about me? I was on the operating table, losing our child. What was my pain worth?”

“Shut up!”

He raised a hand to shove me.

“You don’t understand anything!”

I didn’t flinch.

We stood there, a room thick with gunpowder.

“You’re right,” I said coldly. “I don’t understand. So tell me now—who do you love?”

That question tore open all his defenses.

He stayed silent for a long time—so long I thought he would never answer.

Finally, he looked up, eyes full of exhaustion and grim resolve.

“Natalie, I’m sorry.”

Not love. Not denial. Just a flat confession.

“I can’t control myself. Sophia… she’s part of me. We can’t be separated.”

Boom—

The last thread in my mind snapped.

There was no pain, only numb emptiness.

So he wouldn’t even lie to me.

I staggered back a step. Suddenly, a stabbing pain seized my abdomen.

Looking down, I saw crimson soaking through my loungewear.

I was bleeding.

“Daniel…” I called out instinctively, my voice trembling. “The baby…”

Daniel saw the blood too. His face drained of all color, pale as death.