"Frankie's gonna be staying with us for a bit. Her doctor said it'll help her recover. If she's happy and can open up, her depression should just fade away."

"Oh, and right now, she thinks she's my wife. We've got a marriage certificate and everything. So, don't even think about mentioning our relationship in front of her, okay?"

"Don't upset her. Just take care of her a little—make her some meals, keep her company, chat with her."

"What?"

I stared at my fiancé in disbelief, feeling like I hardly knew him anymore.

Choking back tears, I asked, "Are you seriously saying that while I'm pregnant, I've gotta take care of her?"

"Take care? Just pretend, alright? Frankie's such a nice person. She wouldn't actually ask you to do anything. You saw how she reacted earlier when you were cursing at the courthouse—she even told me not to be mad at you."

Just like that, he put his arm around me—completely clueless about the anger and frustration boiling inside me.

He didn't even have a clue about what that bitch was really up to!

She showed up a year ago, and in that short time, she flipped my whole life upside down!

She was Winston's first love, the one that got away. Years back, she ditched him 'cause he was broke, and so she chased some rich guy overseas.

Now, after a few years away, that bitch comes back saying she got depressed from missing him all this time and that she never stopped loving him.

But by that point, Winston and I had been together for five years. I was already pregnant and ready to marry him!

Using her so-called "depression" as an excuse, she kept inserting herself into Winston's life just to make him feel guilty.

And now? They've got the marriage license, and all that's left is for me to get pushed out. Then this so-called "home" becomes their love nest.

Winston keeps saying I'm overreacting—that I'm just being petty and jealous.

But only a woman can really understand what another woman feels, and Frankie's hostility toward me is all too clear.

"Alright."

Winston patted my shoulder and promised, "Once Frankie's better, she'll leave. Then we can get our marriage license, alright? Right now, this is just the hardest part, so let's help her through it."

"But…"

I tried to reason with him, but just then, as if she had ears everywhere, Frankie called out from the bedroom and interrupted us.

"Winston?"

"Coming!"

Just like that, my fiancé left me and hurried into the master bedroom.

A little while later, he sent me a message on Telegram.

"Sherry, you sleep in the guest room for now. Frankie and I will be in our bedroom."

The guest room is right next to the master bedroom.

That night, leaning against the wall, I could hear them laughing and playing around until midnight—even the bed creaking next door!

That noise…

It was suggestive and intimate. The second I closed my eyes... Damn it, I could picture them making love in our bed!

I really felt like a stranger in my own home, some unwanted third wheel crashing their happy moment.

I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep.

Tears soaked my pillow until I couldn't cry anymore. A dull ache settled in my belly like a reminder that it was time to end this—time to wake up from this nightmare.

So I picked up my phone and, in a moment of clarity, booked an appointment with an OB-GYN—to terminate my pregnancy first thing in the morning.

Winston...

If you can't let go of your first love, then I'll step aside and let her be your wife for good!

I cried until late at night and fell into a deep sleep from exhaustion.

The next morning, I was awakened by the rapid banging on the door.

"Open the door! Come on, open the door! Sherry, it's way too late for you to still be in bed! How am I supposed to eat if you don't get up? Winston told me if I'm hungry, you're supposed to make me breakfast!"

I barely cracked the door open before Frankie's damn finger was right up in my face!

"Geez, could you be any lazier? Do you even know what time it is? You're still in bed while Winston busts his ass at work just to support you? Gosh, you sit around doing nothing?"

She stared me down with a smug grin, looking nothing like someone with depression.

Honestly, she seemed like she got way more energy than I do. I bet she could wrestle a bear if she wanted.

Too bad my poor fiancé just letting this bitch wrap him around her finger. Depression, unstable emotion, memory issues, sensitivity to stress—it's all just one big game to her!

"And why is this any of your business?"

I gave her a cold, hard look, venting my anger, which only made her frown.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She went right back on this sad face like she's the victim here. "Hey, I'm just looking out for you! Can't you appreciate that? Why are you being so mean to me?"

I scoffed. "Oh, bitch, please. Listen, you can put on all the little dramas you want for Winston, but save the act when you're around me. Aren't you tired yet? Stop acting like you're all sweet and innocent!"

"What did you just say? Sherry, how could you accuse me like that?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You ditched Winston back then 'cause what? He wasn't rich enough, and now you're back to try and worm your way into his life again! You know what you're doing, don't you?"

A smack cut in everything else I wanted to say.

She was so pissed off that she actually slapped me across the face!

I'd already had it with her fake little drama, so I didn't hesitate; I slapped her right back just as hard.

To my surprise, though, that's when Winston walked in with breakfast.

Frankie burst into tears and instantly crumpled to the floor, clutching her face. She was sobbing and shaking her head—putting on the most dramatic act I'd ever seen.

"W-Winston…"

"I just can't go on like this! Why does she hate me so much? I've been trying so hard to get along with her, but she just won't accept me!"

"Winston, maybe... maybe it's better if I just die! No one in this world cares about me! My love for you can die with me, a secret no one will ever know, so I won't be a burden on you anymore!"

The next thing we knew, she lunged for the coffee table like crazy to grab a fruit knife, and then, she rolled up her sleeve like she was about to cut her wrist.

Winston panicked at the scene. He dropped the breakfast and bolted over, shoving me onto the couch so he could grab Frankie, wresting the knife out of her hand.

"Jesus Christ, Sherry, you're getting way too far! I just leave for a few minutes, and this is how you treat Frankie?!"

"Have I been so easy on you that you think you can do whatever you want? You've hurt her with your words again and again, but this time, you're actually hitting her?!"

"Apologize to her right now. Apologize to Frankie!"

"Apologize?"

I pointed to my face, holding back my tears. Then, I replied, "Why should I apologize? That bitch insulted me! She provoked me! She slapped me first! Why should I be the one to apologize?"

"Don't make things up! She would never do something like that!"

"I'm not lying! Jeez, Winston, she's been acting all along! Depression? Emotional breakdowns? Always saying she wants to die? It's all just a damn game to make you feel sorry for her!"

The second I said it, Frankie went nuts again, scrambling for the knife, pretending she was going to cut her wrist again.

Winston's on the edge, barely holding it together.

He grabbed the knife from her, and in a fit of rage, he swung it—leaving a cut across my face! But that wasn't enough—he actually slapped me with all his strength!

I cried out in pain, clutching my face. Damn it, it hurt like her but also felt numb at the same time.

Before I could even speak, Winston yelled, "Get the fuck out, Sherry! Get your damn ass out of this house!"