Chapter 3

Our story began in college, a classic tale of opposites. I was the quiet, steady engineering student, the one who always had his notes in order and a clear five-year plan. Olivia was a whirlwind, an art history major with a flair for the dramatic and a laugh that could fill any room.

She was dating Liam Sterling then. He was the campus star-charming, handsome, the kind of guy everyone wanted to be or be with. Their relationship was a public spectacle, full of grand romantic gestures and equally grand, screaming fights. I watched from the sidelines, nursing a quiet, hopeless crush.

I was her friend, the reliable Ethan she called when Liam forgot her birthday or stood her up. I was the one who listened to her cry, who brought her soup when she was sick, who helped her study for finals when Liam was off at some party. I was her rock. I just never thought I' d be anything more.

Then, senior year, Liam left. He got a scholarship to study abroad and didn't look back. Olivia was devastated. And I was there to pick up the pieces.

Our relationship grew slowly from the ashes of hers. It wasn't a passionate, fiery romance. It was comfortable. It was safe. I loved her with a desperate, all-consuming devotion, and I think, in her own way, she was grateful for it. She accepted my love. I mistook her acceptance for love in return.

We got married a few years after graduation. I got a good job at a top engineering firm. She drifted between part-time jobs and hobbies, never quite finding her passion. I was happy to support her. I wanted to give her everything Liam never could: stability, security, a peaceful life. I bought us a beautiful house in the suburbs. I paid off her student loans and the credit card debt she' d racked up. My life became about making her happy.

The one thing I couldn't give her was a child.

The diagnosis of infertility hit us hard, but it hit me harder. I yearned for a family, for the noise and chaos of children filling our quiet house. Olivia seemed more resigned. We went through round after round of fertility treatments. It was invasive, expensive, and emotionally draining. I worked overtime, taking on extra projects to pay the mounting medical bills. Olivia went through the motions, but her heart never seemed fully in it. Looking back, I see she was just going along with my dream.

Then, against all odds, it worked. The day the doctor confirmed the pregnancy was the happiest day of my life. I cried. I held Olivia and spun her around the living room, promising our child the world. For the first time, I saw a genuine, uncomplicated spark of joy in her eyes. I thought, finally, this is it. This baby will be the glue that truly bonds us together. He will be our dream.

The first few months were blissful. I catered to her every whim, thrilled by her cravings and her changing body. I was building a family, brick by brick.

Then Liam came back.

It was a post on social media. He was back in the country, starting some new, vaguely defined tech venture. Olivia became instantly, obsessively interested. She would spend hours scrolling through his profile, a small, wistful smile on her face.

"Isn't it great that he's doing so well?" she'd say.

I tried to be the supportive husband. "Yeah, that's great, honey," I' d reply, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach.

They met for coffee, "just to catch up." Then it became lunch. Then regular phone calls. She insisted it was innocent, that they were just old friends. I chose to believe her. I was so focused on the baby, on our perfect future, that I refused to see the cracks forming in the present. I told myself I was being paranoid, that a man confident in his future shouldn't be jealous of his wife's past.

I was a fool. I was so blinded by my own happiness, by the dream I had worked so hard to build, that I couldn't see she was dismantling it right in front of me. She wasn't rekindling a friendship. She was reporting for duty. Her true commander had returned, and I was just the guy paying for the house she lived in. The baby wasn't the glue I had hoped for. He was just an inconvenience, an obstacle to her real purpose. And when the choice came, she didn' t hesitate.

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