Chapter 2

The next two weeks were a special kind of hell.

I tried to believe him. I really did. But the red flags were everywhere. I found their shared Spotify playlist, titled "Project Nightingale," full of intimate, slow songs. His phone buzzed constantly with late-night texts from her. One night, I saw a message flash on his screen: "Baby is kicking like crazy. Wish you were here to feel it."

When I confronted him, he turned it all back on me.

"Gabby, you're being insecure. It's 2024. Can't a man and a woman be friends? You're so old-fashioned sometimes."

He accused me of being jealous, of not understanding his "progressive" view on life. He made me feel small and controlling.

The worst part was the families. I called my mom, crying, expecting support.

"Gabrielle, don't be so dramatic," she said, her voice tight with disappointment. "Andrew is a good man from a good family. You have the house, the ring. Don't throw away a perfectly good engagement over a technicality. What will people say?"

Andrew's parents were even worse. His mother, Carol, called me to her house for tea.

"Gabby, dear," she said, patting my hand. "Andrew has such a big heart. He's just helping a less fortunate colleague. You should be proud of him. We can't have you ruining this beautiful union with silly jealousy."

I felt completely alone, like I was the crazy one. Everyone I trusted was telling me to ignore the gaping wound in my relationship, to just smile and pretend everything was perfect. They cared more about appearances than my actual heart.

The breaking point came on a Tuesday night. I found a receipt in his car for a high-end baby store. A crib, a changing table, a mobile. Over a thousand dollars.

"This is not 'being supportive,' Andrew," I said, my voice shaking as I held up the receipt. "This is building a nursery."

"Maria doesn't have a lot of money," he said, not even looking at me, his eyes on his laptop. "I was just helping out."

"I can't do this anymore," I said, the words finally coming out, sharp and clear. "I'm giving you an ultimatum. You cut all non-essential contact with her. No more texts, no more appointments, no more secret shopping trips. And you get a lawyer to draft an agreement that signs away all your parental rights. You do that, or the wedding is off."

He finally looked up from his screen, his face a mask of disbelief.

"You can't be serious. I can't just abandon her. I can't abandon my child."

My child. The words hit me like a physical blow.

Just then, his phone rang. The screen lit up with a picture of Maria. He answered it immediately.

"Maria? What's wrong? Slow down."

His face went pale. "Okay, I'm on my way. Don't move. I'll be right there."

He hung up and grabbed his keys, not even looking at me.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Maria... she's having a panic attack. She collapsed. I have to get her to the hospital." He was already at the door.

He paused, his hand on the knob, and turned to look at me. The logic and charm were gone, replaced by cold fury.

"This is your fault," he said, his voice low and venomous. "You and your cruel ultimatum. You're a heartless person, Gabby."

Then he was gone, leaving me alone in our perfect house, the silence screaming at me.