Chapter 3

The storm hit one Tuesday night, sudden and violent. Rain lashed against the windows, thunder cracked overhead, shaking the house. I' d always hated thunderstorms. A childhood fear, irrational but deep. Ethan knew. He used to hold me, tell me stories, his presence a calm anchor until it passed.

Tonight, the first clap of thunder sent a jolt of anxiety through me. I was in the kitchen, trying to find something to eat, my appetite gone for days. I looked for Ethan, needing that familiar comfort.

I found him in the living room. Olivia was on the sofa, crying, her hands over her ears. Ethan was kneeling beside her, stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words.

"It' s okay, Liv. It' s just a storm. I' m right here."

He didn' t even see me standing in the doorway.

Another crash of thunder, louder this time. Olivia whimpered and buried her face in Ethan' s shoulder. He held her tighter.

I watched them, a hollow ache spreading through my chest. He was comforting her, the woman he' d chosen over me, while I stood alone, my own fear a tight band around my heart. He used to do that for me. Now, his comfort was reserved for Olivia.

I turned and walked back to our bedroom, the sound of the storm a roar in my ears, matching the turmoil inside me. I lay on the bed, curled on my side, one hand on my belly. The baby kicked, a small, reassuring flutter. But it wasn't enough.

This was too much. I couldn' t do this. I couldn' t bring a child into a world where its father prioritized a "fragile" acquaintance over its own mother, where its home was filled with lies and neglect. The decision, cold and hard, settled in my heart.

The next morning, the storm had passed, leaving a grey, washed-out sky. Ethan was distant, preoccupied with Olivia, who looked even more wan and needy after her "ordeal."

His mother, Eleanor, arrived unannounced. She swept into the living room, her expression disapproving as she took in my tired appearance.

"Sarah," she said, her voice sharp. "We need to talk."

Ethan hovered. "Mom, maybe later. Sarah' s not feeling well."

"Nonsense, Ethan. This is important." She waved him away and fixed her cold eyes on me. "I' ve heard the disgusting rumors, Sarah. About your behavior at that festival. Honestly, I never thought you were good enough for Ethan, with your simple background, but this... this is beyond the pale. A pregnant woman, acting like trash."

"It' s not what you think," I started, my voice weak.

"Oh, I think I know exactly what it is," Eleanor sneered. "You' ve shamed my son. You' ve shamed this family. And that child you' re carrying... it' s a disgrace."

Her words hit me like physical blows.

"You need to fix this, Sarah. You need to get an abortion. And then you need to divorce Ethan. He deserves better than a country bumpkin who can' t control herself."

I stared at her, speechless. Abortion? Divorce? Because of a lie Ethan told?

Ethan finally stepped in. "Mom, that' s enough! You' re upsetting Sarah."

"Upsetting her? She should be upset! She should be ashamed!"

I looked at Ethan, a desperate plea in my eyes. Tell her. Tell her the truth.

He looked from his mother to me, then back to his mother. He took a deep breath.

"Mom, it was a mistake. A terrible mistake. Sarah regrets it. But... the baby is mine. I' ll accept it as my own. We' ll deal with this as a family."

The air left my lungs. He' ll accept it as his own. He was validating the lie. He was confirming to his mother, to the world, that I was the one who had erred, that our child was conceived in shame, but he, magnanimous Ethan, would do the right thing.

My last shred of hope crumbled. There was nothing left between us. Numbness spread through me, cold and final. He had made his choice. And it wasn' t me. It wasn' t our child. It was always, always Olivia.