It all started because I failed to hold the cake Orion asked to buy securely. My husband, furious, abandoned me—eight months pregnant—on the side of a highway.

As cars raced past, I frantically dialed his number over and over. When he finally answered, his voice was ice cold.

“Marigold rarely comes back to Washington, and he specifically asked for that cake. If you’d held it properly, I wouldn’t have to go back to buy it again,” he snapped.

“I—”

“Figure out how to get home yourself.” He hung up before I could even respond.

This was the man who once swore I was his everything. How had he changed so much since Marigold’s return?

My chest ached, my stomach tightened painfully, and a dark thought surfaced. I called the hospital.

“Can an induced abortion be arranged at eight months?” I asked, my voice trembling.

——

I clung to the guardrail as cars zoomed by, each one a blur of light and motion. Step by step, I walked several kilometers, my feet swollen and throbbing, until a kind driver finally stopped to help me reach the highway exit.

At the intersection, I stood waiting for a taxi, exhaustion and despair dulling my senses. Yet, beneath the numbness, a storm of emotion brewed.

Then, I heard it—familiar voices murmuring nearby. I turned my head and saw Marigold, standing with their old classmates, their laughter ringing out as if I didn’t exist.

Marigold was there, so the others didn’t dare acknowledge me.

“Orion’s hosting today. Why isn’t he here yet?”

“Who knows? With Marigold around, who would even dare to rush him?”

Marigold casually made a phone call, her voice light and commanding. “Orion, did you buy the cake? I want it now. You better be here in half an hour!”

She ended the call with a laugh, but as her gaze swept over me, her eyes narrowed with disdain. She had recognized me long ago. I realized then that the call wasn’t just about the cake—it was meant for me to hear.

My husband, the man who once claimed to love me beyond words, had left me, heavily pregnant, and traveled thousands of miles just because Marigold wanted dessert.

After they left, I stood in the drizzle, my emotions a chaotic storm. I dialed the hospital again, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Doctor, the baby is eight months old. Can it still be induced?”

There was a long pause on the other end. Then, the doctor’s voice came, hesitant. “It’s almost full-term. It can be done, but the father’s consent is required.”

“Alright.”

The doctor started to say something else, but I ended the call abruptly.

The rain dripped steadily as I opened the taxi app, offering an extra fare to find a ride faster. Just then, Orion’s name lit up my screen. I hesitated before answering.

“Please arrange the food for tonight at the hotel first. I probably won’t make it back in time,” he said, his tone casual, as if nothing was amiss.

“Lucinda, did you hear me?” he added, using the name he reserved when he wanted my immediate attention.

“Oh, and Marigold loves the stewed dishes from the restaurant downstairs. Ask them to deliver it quickly. If it rains too much, the food won’t be as good.”

I stayed silent, my mind racing.

“I don’t have time to buy it myself,” Orion continued. “There’s something urgent I need to take care of.”

His “urgent matter” was nothing more than another command from Marigold.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t agree, nor did I refuse.

“Orion, we’re leaving—” My voice cracked, and before I could finish, tears streamed down my face.

On the other end, his voice interrupted, tinged with irritation. “Alright, don’t distract me while I’m driving. Just get everything done, as usual.”

He didn’t even hesitate. Perhaps he had left me stranded so many times that he believed I would always manage to sort things out on my own, no matter how much it hurt. After all, wasn’t I supposed to “consider the bigger picture,” as he always said?

But this time was different. I was tired—bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

When I finally made it home, I collapsed onto the bed, barely able to keep my eyes open. Just as sleep began to claim me, a knock came at the door.

Frustration boiled over, and I swore to myself: this time, I’d end it. I’d divorce him, no matter what.

Dragging myself to the door, I opened it to find not him, but a staff member from the maternity and baby store.

“Mrs. Steele,” she began politely, “you haven’t provided the name of the child’s father for the crib you customized. I couldn’t reach you by phone, so I came in person.”

The words hit me like a slap. I forced a smile, the corners of my mouth trembling. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want the crib anymore.”

The staff member blinked in confusion. “But you’ve already paid most of the amount. You’re just short of the balance. Doesn’t that mean—”

“It doesn’t matter. The child’s father is dead.”

I shut the door before she could respond, unwilling to explain further.

Orion had mentioned just days ago that he would personally review the crib’s design. I doubted he had the time or the inclination now. Besides, I didn’t want Orion’s child anymore. What use did I have for that crib?

Maybe it was the rain, or perhaps my exhaustion, but my body felt like it was being dragged into a fiery purgatory. Sweat clung to my forehead, mingling with the rain, leaving me in a haze of heat and discomfort.

A loud noise startled me awake. When I opened my eyes, Orion was there. He had broken the door, unable to reach me by phone and too impatient to wait.

“Orion, pour me a glass of water,” I whispered, my throat parched.

He brought the water, but as I reached for it, the glass tipped, and the cold liquid splashed across my face.

“Lucinda,” he snapped, his voice sharp with anger. “I asked you to book the hotel and place the orders, but here you are, lying around sleeping?”

He towered over me, his face twisted in frustration. “Marigold and my classmates are already there. They have nowhere to stay. Do you know how embarrassing this is for me?”

I stared at him, my heart sinking. Was this the same man who had once vowed to love and protect me for a lifetime?

He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me lightly. “What are you sulking about now? Is it because I asked you to go back on your own? You’ve done it before when I was busy with other social obligations.”

His words were relentless, cutting deeper with every syllable.

“I really don’t understand what you’re trying to do, Lucinda. I think you’re just trying to make your presence known because Marigold is back.”

I laughed, the sound dry and hollow. So, he knew exactly what I cared about all along.

Orion had taken my tolerance for granted all these years.

“Orion, if you feel so embarrassed, let’s just get a divorce,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

He froze for a moment, then forced a laugh and softened his tone. Grabbing a few tissues, he began dabbing at my face. “Okay, okay, I overreacted. You know how I get when I’m anxious about these reunions.”

His words dripped with feigned affection. “Just wait a bit, and I’ll take you on a trip. How about that?”

I didn’t respond. I was too tired to argue, too weary to pull apart his mask of pretense.

We both knew the truth—I just hadn’t wanted to admit it until now. Everyone said the same thing: If Marigold hadn’t gone abroad, how could it have been my turn to marry Orion?

Back then, I had ignored my family’s objections, throwing myself headfirst into a marriage I thought would last forever. I stood by him, helped him build his company, and watched as he secured his place in Westbrook

From the outside, I was the enviable wife of a successful man—a president, no less. Orion had no known scandals, no whispers of other women. But I knew better. I knew exactly who he had been saving himself for.

He reached for my hand when I stayed silent, pulling me up. “Let’s go. Everyone’s waiting. If you don’t show up, Marigold might overthink it.”

Ignoring my resistance, he dragged me to the hotel.

When we arrived, he pushed open the box door. Laughter and conversation spilled out, but my focus immediately landed on the woman sitting in the main seat—Marigold.

It was the first time I had ever looked at her properly. She was just as stunning as her photos, her beauty amplified by a striking red dress that clung to her figure. My heart skipped a beat.

No wonder Orion always said I looked good in red. The realization clawed at me, making the pale red nightgown I wore feel utterly absurd.

Orion’s old classmate, Thaddeus, smirked and teased, “Mr. Steele, what’s going on? Are you so tight on money that your wife can’t afford a decent dress?”

The room erupted in laughter.

Orion turned to glance at me, and for a moment, I thought I might see guilt in his eyes. But there was none—just a flicker of disgust, fleeting yet unmistakable.

“She’s a housewife and pregnant. It doesn’t matter what she wears. It’s just... like that.”

The laughter grew louder, echoing in my ears.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. With a forced calm, I reached for Orion’s arm. “Honey,” I said, my tone serious, “can we step outside for a moment? I need to talk to you about the baby.”

Orion leaned in, his voice a low murmur in my ear. “Everyone is watching us. Don’t make a scene. If you have something to say, we’ll talk at home.”

The forced calm in his tone made my chest tighten, but I bit back my response.

“Alright, alright,” Marigold’s voice cut through the awkward silence. “Which one of you didn’t give birth to a baby while pregnant? Let’s stop the jokes now.”

Her sharp reprimand silenced the room, drawing attention back to her as she reached into a gift bag. With a practiced smile, she pulled out a dress and extended it toward me.

“Lucinda, this is our first time meeting. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I picked a dress for you.” She paused, holding it up against me with a slight frown. “Oh no, I forgot you’re pregnant. I must’ve picked something too small. My apologies.”

Her feigned remorse churned my stomach, but I managed a tight smile. “Miss Ashford, how thoughtful of you.”

I didn’t make a move to take the dress. Orion stepped in immediately, grabbing it for me. “Of course, we appreciate it,” he said quickly.

Marigold’s fingers toyed with the necklace around her neck—a delicate piece I once thought was meant for me. My heart clenched as she smiled coyly. “Orion, you’re too kind. You knew I was coming back and prepared this necklace as a gift for me. Using Lucinda’s name, though? That’s quite clever.”

My fingers curled into my skirt. The necklace had been in a box on my dresser for weeks. I’d admired it, thinking Orion had chosen it for me. Now it gleamed mockingly against her skin.

Orion’s face reddened as he awkwardly slid into the main seat. Before I could process the humiliation, Marigold settled beside him, her movements deliberate.

“Lucinda,” she said sweetly, “that seat faces the air conditioner. You should sit over there—it’s better for you.”

Her words carried a double meaning that stung sharper than any insult. Even if I were oblivious, her intent was clear.

The others chimed in, their voices light but dripping with subtext:

“Our school beauty is still so gentle and considerate.”

“Marigold, there must have been so many guys chasing you abroad!”

“Too bad for Orion—he had no chance back then!”

Orion appeared to focus on picking up food, but I knew him too well. He was hanging on every word.

Marigold smiled at their teasing, her eyes sparkling with feigned modesty. “Of course, but it’s a shame—I already had someone in my heart.”

She glanced at Orion, her gaze lingering. The sweetness in her expression was unbearable.

Then, almost casually, she plucked a shrimp from the platter and placed it in her bowl, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Marigold,” Orion said immediately, his tone filled with concern, “you’re allergic to shrimp.”

Her eyes lit up with delight. “Oh, Orion, after all these years, you still remember?”

The room erupted in laughter again, the sound grating against my ears. My stomach twisted painfully as I glanced at Orion.

Seeing my hand resting on my stomach, Orion seemed to realize something. His expression softened as he asked, “What’s wrong? Is my son not feeling well?”

I smiled faintly, masking the bitterness rising in my chest. “Why, don’t you like the idea of having a daughter instead?”

“How could that be? I’ll love our child, boy or girl,” he said, his tone overly sweet as he placed food on my plate.

When he mentioned the baby, his demeanor shifted. His voice lowered, and he began whispering his usual string of affectionate words, the kind he used to smooth things over. Once, they might have comforted me. Now, they felt hollow.

Feigning illness, I excused myself from the ridiculous dinner, leaving behind the laughter and stolen glances.

Marigold, always the picture of concern, insisted on coming home with us. Orion, caught between us, had no choice but to cut the evening short and drive us back.

When we reached the car, Marigold was already settled comfortably in the passenger seat. She turned with an apologetic smile.

“Lucinda, I’m sorry. My stomach feels a little off. You don’t mind me sitting up front, do you?”

Her words dripped with false modesty.

“Whatever you want,” I replied, stepping into the back seat.

She was trying to provoke me, I knew that much. And perhaps yesterday, I might have fallen for it, letting anger flare. But today? Today, I didn’t care. I didn’t care for this petty game, nor for the man at the center of it.

“I told you she wouldn’t mind,” Marigold said brightly, turning toward Orion. “She’s always been so generous.”

Their laughter filled the car as they reminisced about their past—memories that didn’t include me.

I sat in silence, an outsider in my own life.

From the back seat, I caught Orion’s gaze in the rearview mirror. His eyes sparkled with warmth—directed entirely at Marigold’s smile. It was as though he had forgotten I was there, his wife, mere inches away.

I shifted my gaze out the window, feeling the cold distance stretched wider between us with each passing moment.

When we finally arrived, Marigold turned to me with a saccharine smile. “Lucinda, let me add your contact info. I’ve just returned, and I’d hate to bother Orion too much. If there’s anything I need, I’ll reach out to you first.”