Chapter 3

3

Weston didn't come home that night. I didn't call to ask where he was.

I already knew from Yara's social media posts.

After leaving the clinic, they had gone straight to Yara's family home to share the news.

In the photos, Yara's grandmother was holding Weston's hand warmly. His other hand was resting gently on Yara's stomach, a tender smile on his face.

In the five years we were together, Weston had only visited my parents once―after he proposed.

Even though our parents lived less than thirty minutes away, he never initiated a visit.

He said he didn't like hanging out with elders; it made him feel stifled.

Even during that one visit, he was merely polite. He was never as warm as he appeared in the photos with Yara's family.

I closed my eyes, hiding the bitterness, and shut off my phone.

The next day, I met up with a few close friends to tell them the wedding was off.

Weston had always said he hated weddings. He thought they were meaningless formalism.

I had to beg him just to agree to a small ceremony with our closest friends and family.

Everyone knew how much I loved him. Naturally, they were shocked when I told them it was canceled.

"But you've chased Weston for years! You finally caught him. How can you just let him go?"

A dull ache throbbed in my chest.

Was I ready to let go? Of course not.

I had spent twenty years following in his footsteps before he finally agreed to marry me.

Cutting out a twenty-year-old love wasn't easy.

But the truth was, this relationship had been lopsided from the start.

I was always the one chasing. He was the one who never stopped to wait.

I used to tell myself it didn't matter. If I could make him agree to marry me, I could eventually win his heart.

I thought we had a lifetime ahead of us. I could wait for him to truly open up to me.

But everything changed six months ago when Yara, his so-called savior, reappeared.

I realized then that Weston wasn't cold to everyone.

He was always gentle with Yara, but he couldn't even spare a smile for me.

I tried to comfort myself. I told myself she saved his life. He was just being grateful.

But I never expected him to agree to father her child just because she was sick!

Worse, he had pretended to ask for my consent while already going behind my back to do it.

At that moment, I knew. Weston and I were over.

No matter how hard it was to sever twenty years of history, I had to cut the cord.

I didn't tell my friends the real reason. I just said I was going into a long-term research project and would be out of touch for a while.

To make it up to them, I stayed out until midnight, celebrating my "last night out" before the lab.

When I got home, Weston had just arrived.

He smelled the alcohol on me and immediately frowned. He stepped back, covering his nose with a look of pure disgust.

"Stay away from me. Don't get that smell on my clothes."

I gave a self-deprecating laugh.

He was probably worried about Yara smelling it on him.

After all, she was a pregnant woman now.

His rejection was so blatant; he wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.

I didn't argue. I just went to the bathroom to take a shower.

When I came out, Weston was typing furiously on his phone, a smile playing on his lips.

I ignored him and headed for the bedroom.

Suddenly, he called out.

"I need to talk to you about something."

I stopped in my tracks.

The last time he said those words was a month ago when he first asked to have a baby with Yara.

Now that she was already pregnant, what else could there be?