My mom’s chemotherapy failed.

Her last wish?

One final dinner, with all of us gathered around the table, one last time.

But that night, as I set the table for what was supposed to be a sacred reunion, my husband Hayes brought his new lover with him. Zara. Her belly was round, unmistakably pregnant. She wasn’t there just to flaunt her pregnancy. No, she came to rub it in.

The shock hit my mom like a freight train. Her health had already been fragile, but this—this crushed her.

That night, she slipped away from us, the life draining from her as if her heart couldn’t take the weight of it all.

I tried calling Hayes. Once. Twice. Over and over again.

Nothing.

It wasn’t until the funeral arrangements were taken care of that he finally called back.

His voice was cold. Detached. “Zara’s just a kid, Elise. She doesn’t know any better. Don’t pick fights with her. Don’t upset your mom—she’s delicate, you know how pregnancy messes with emotions. Just… don’t start anything.”

And just when I thought I was done listening, he added, “Look, I get that you don’t like her. Fine. I’ll keep her away from you. But she’s carrying my kid, Elise. I still have to be there for her. During the week, I’ll be with you. On weekends, I’ll be with her.”

His tone left no space for debate.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t beg. I didn’t fight.

I just gave him a quiet “Mm-hm.”

And then, without a second thought, I logged onto the Global Medical Relief website and submitted my application to volunteer.

Because of those promises we once made? They were nothing but empty echoes of a past I was done holding onto.

It was time to let him go.

And it was time to free myself.

———

Elise’s POV

As Hayes went on about his plans, his words floated around me like a vague cloud. I wasn’t really listening anymore. My fingers were flying across the keyboard, filling out the Global Medical Relief application without a second thought.

The qualifications flashed on the screen. Every box was checked.

I didn’t hesitate. I was done hesitating.

When he finally stopped talking, the only sound in the room was the rhythmic clacking of my keys.

Then came the irritation in his voice. “Elise, are you even listening to me?”

I barely registered his question, responding casually, “Mm-hm.”

Silence.

Maybe he was taken aback by how easy I was to ignore. Maybe he thought I would still be waiting around for him to apologize.

A moment later, his tone softened, like he was sighing into the phone. “If only you’d been this compliant before, Elise, things could’ve turned out so differently.”

His words reached into my past, pulling out ghosts I thought I’d buried. In the five years of our marriage, countless women came to us.

The arguments.

The constant betrayals.

The parade of women who seemed to get a thrill from rubbing salt in my wounds.

The first time it happened, I lost it. I threw things around, screamed until my throat bled, and demanded answers.

But all I saw in his eyes was exhaustion.

And the same old tired excuses: 'It’s just work. I was just being polite. Nothing is going on. How often do I have to say it before you trust me?'

Apparently, I was the problem. The irrational one. The wife who couldn’t trust her husband.

So I did what I always did—I made myself question everything. Was I overreacting? Was I just too suspicious?

I apologized.

I humbled myself.

I begged.

And then, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, the news broke.

A photo. Hayes, stepping into a hotel with some B-list celebrities.

I lost it again. Confronted him, but this time, there was no defense.

No excuses.

He just looked at me with an exhausted, almost pitying gaze. “Elise, do you really not trust me at all? If that’s how you feel, then fine. I’ll do what you want.”

And he did.

From then on, the mask came off.

No more lies. No more pretending. No more explanations. Every week, he was in the headlines with a different woman. I even caught him one night, his lips pressed against some woman in his car, like I didn’t even exist.

When I confronted him, he didn’t bother denying it.

Silence.

That was his answer.

In five years of marriage, I lost track of how many fights we had.

But I was so tired. So damn tired.

I thought about leaving, about walking away from this twisted version of love.

But my mom... she was fighting cancer, and her one wish was to see me happy.

She had suffered so much. How could I tell her the truth? How could I break her heart like that?

So I stayed.

I stopped looking. Stopped asking. Stopped reacting to the women who came to taunt me.

I convinced myself that if I just ignored it all, I could keep up the illusion. I could pretend to be fine.

Until that night.

The night she passed away.

Lying there, so frail and fragile, my mom's tear-filled eyes looked at me with a kind of resignation.

“Elise… it’s all my fault… I just wanted you to be happy… If you’re hurting, sweetheart… then let go…”

And for the first time in five years, I finally did.

Elise’s POV

My mom’s last wish had changed. It wasn’t just about having one last family dinner anymore.

She wanted me to find happiness.

Her frail voice echoed in my mind, each word heavier than the last. My throat constricted, and my eyes blurred with tears that wouldn’t stop coming.

When I finally spoke, my voice trembled and cracked with emotion. “Hayes, you can’t give me the happiness I want anymore, can you?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let out a slow, deep sigh.

“Elise… we’re in our late twenties now. It’s time we grew up. Whether we love each other or not… it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

There it was.

He didn’t need to say it directly.

I knew exactly what he meant.

He didn’t love me anymore.

I let out a soft, bitter laugh, one that caught in my throat like a noose. It was a laugh of surrender, something breaking deep inside me that I couldn’t hold together anymore.

“Fine, then,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips. “I’ll let you go… and I’ll let myself go too.”

The moment I said it, my chest tightened, and my heart clenched so painfully I thought I might collapse from the weight of it because I’d heard it before. Five years ago.

Back then, we had nothing—not even a decent roof over our heads. Our tiny, rundown apartment was barely more than four walls, but we made it ours.

The only ring he could afford was a simple silver band.

But when he proposed, his eyes held a fire that made me believe everything he said.

“Elise, I promise you—wherever I am, that’ll always be your home. I’ll give you the life you deserve. You’ll never have to suffer again. From now on, it’s just happiness. Just us.”

I believed him. I didn’t hesitate. I said yes.

He was ecstatic, like a kid who’d just won the world. He lifted me up, and spun me around, laughing like we were the only two people on earth.

“From this moment on, you’re my wife. In this life and the next, we’ll never be apart. Don’t even think about making me let go of your hand.”

But now?

Now, he had forgotten every single word of that promise.

And he didn’t even bother fighting me on it.

Instead, he just said, “Fine. But don’t worry, Elise. No one can replace you. No matter what, my wife's position will always be yours.”

Once upon a time, I used to feel proud when people called me Mrs. Westbrook. It made me feel secure, loved, and like I belonged somewhere.

Now?

Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ever since Hayes started making headlines with one woman after another, the whispers around me never stopped.

Some people pitied me.

Others… they mocked me.

“Mr. Westbrook’s going through women like a revolving door. Do you really think you’ll still be his wife for much longer? If I were you, I’d get pregnant while I still had the chance—might help you cash in when he finally divorces you.”

“Five years, and she hasn’t had a baby yet? Maybe she can’t have kids. No wonder she can’t keep him.”

What they didn’t know—what no one knew—was that I had been pregnant.

In our first year of marriage, I carried our child.

But then, there was that night.

Hayes had been entertaining a group of potential clients. Someone had deliberately gotten him drunk, humiliating him in front of them while he smiled through the pain, just to close the deal.

I had just come from a work event when I saw him—his face flushed, his posture stiff, his fists clenched under the table.

My heart broke for him. I wanted to take him away from that place, away from those people who saw him as nothing more than a tool to get what they wanted.

But then, they turned their attention to me.

“If Mrs. Westbrook drinks with us, we’ll sign the contract right now. Hell, we’ll even send you two home.”

I knew how much that deal meant to him. I knew how hard he’d worked for it.

So, I swallowed my pride.

I picked up the glass.

And I drank.

That night, Hayes closed the deal he’d worked so hard for.

And I lost our child.

After that, no matter how careful we tried to be, pregnancy never happened again.

Maybe it was punishment.

Maybe the universe decided I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Maybe it was for not protecting my baby when I had the chance.

As Hayes’s voice faded into the silence of the room, the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. Warm, heavy tears spilled down my cheeks, landing on my hand.

For the first time in a long time, I let myself cry.

Elise’s POV

After handling my mother’s funeral, I returned to work at the hospital like it was any other day. Grief clung to me like a second skin, but I kept moving, kept working—because, really, what else was there to do?

It didn’t take long before my mentor, Dr. Paula Reeve, popped by my office. She didn’t waste any time getting straight to the point.

“Dr. Montague,” she said, her brow furrowing with concern. “I heard about your application for Global Medical Relief. Are you sure about this? The area they’re sending people to is still a war zone. You’ll be facing gunfire, danger—every single day.”

I met her gaze, steady and unwavering. “I’ve thought this through, Dr. Reeve. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. Just… never found the right moment.”

In the past, I couldn’t leave. I had my mother to take care of. And I had Hayes.

But now?

My mother was gone. And the Hayes I once loved—the one who once loved me—was long gone too. I had no real reason to stay anymore.

It didn’t matter where I was. If I could go somewhere and make a difference, even a small one, that was enough for me.

Dr. Reeve studied me for a long moment, clearly weighing her words. Then, she exhaled, a resigned sigh escaping her lips. She knew there was no talking me out of it.

“All right,” she said finally. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

I gave her a small smile. “I will.”

She left soon after, and I turned back to my desk, sorting through paperwork when the door suddenly swung open.

And there he was. Hayes.

His timing was impeccable.

He looked at me with those familiar furrowed brows. “Where did you say you were going just now?”

I froze for half a second, then slowly looked up, keeping my face neutral. No need to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his presence still affected me.

“I was talking about taking a trip,” I said, my voice smooth and calm as I continued to organize my desk. “Since I started working, I’ve barely had time to travel.”

Back in college, I used to plan trips all the time. I loved seeing new places and exploring unfamiliar cities, and Hayes knew that about me.

And just like that, any suspicion in his expression faded away.

“That’s good,” he said, nodding approvingly. “It’s good for your health to travel more.”

Then, without missing a beat, he added, “By the way, Zara’s coming in for a check-up. Can you help her schedule an appointment?”

So that’s why he was here.

No pretenses anymore. No fake concern.

My fingers tightened around the file in my hands, a dull ache settling deep in my chest.

He was so excited about their baby.

Did he ever stop to think about the one we lost?

For a split second, I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to ask if he ever remembered. If he ever thought about the baby we never got to hold.

But I swallowed it down.

The past was gone. No point digging up what was already buried.

Or maybe… he had forgotten a long time ago.

I forced my voice to stay calm and steady. “The doctors at our hospital are more than capable. You can just register and wait your turn.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, the door opened again.

Zara Bennett.

Her baby bump was unmistakable as she walked in, linking her arm through Hayes’s. She looked up at him, her voice soft, almost pitiful.

“Hayes, is Dr. Montague unwilling to help us?” she murmured. “It’s my fault for forgetting to make an appointment. I didn’t mean to waste your time.”

Hayes didn’t pull away from her touch. Instead, he reached out and pinched her cheek playfully.

“I have time,” he said, his voice gentle, too gentle. “If she doesn’t want to help, it’s fine. I’ll wait with you.”

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering something meant only for her.

The warmth between them was suffocating.

I didn’t know what hurt more—the fact that he had never been this gentle with me, or the fact that I once believed he could be.

There was a time when he would go out of his way to make me smile. When he’d spend his last dollar on a necklace I liked, promising me that whatever any other woman had, I’d have it too.

He used to come home worn out, his body spent from climbing the corporate ladder. But no matter how tired he was, he’d always make time for me. He’d still talk to me, still listen.

He used to tell me those late-night conversations with me made him feel alive.

And now?

Now, we barely exchanged words.

I tore my gaze away from them, forcing myself not to linger on something that had already crumbled.

Just as I turned back to my desk, Hayes spoke again, casual as ever.

“The incident last time… it was Zara’s fault,” he said like he was talking about the weather. “I had someone buy some supplements. I’ll send them to Mom later—to apologize.”

I froze. 'Apologize? To my mother?'

My jaw clenched, my nails digging into my palm.

She was gone.

What was the point of apologizing now?