After I Left, He Regretted Choosing His First Love

I sat in the living room all night, unmoving.

The moment the sky began to lighten, I dragged my suitcase out the door, one step at a time, leaving that place and everything it had broken in me behind.

I found a hotel nearby and tossed my luggage into the room without caring where it landed.

I collapsed face-first onto the bed and buried my face in the pillow.

When I woke again, it was almost evening. My eyes were so swollen I could barely open them.

The second I turned on my phone, the screen was flooded with missed calls.

But it was the dozen unread messages that made my vision blur red. All from Kevin.

【Maura, we're supposed to be at City Hall soon. Where are you?】

【Why can't I reach you?】

【I'll wait for you.】

……

I read through every message with cold eyes. My stomach turned.

It was the first time I truly understood that a single heart could be split in two and offered to different people.

It disgusted me.

I deleted him without a second thought.

I opened Instagram and started scrolling through videos, trying to dull the nausea.

But the very next thing that appeared on my feed was a new post from Bertha.

The first photo was a marriage certificate.

Bertha Barnes and Kevin Sanchez's marriage certificate.

The second was their wedding photo.

The comments were full of people gushing about what a gorgeous couple they made.

Something in my chest was carved out, raw and bleeding.

So this was what Kevin meant by “I'll wait for you”?

I managed a bitter smile,

wiped the dampness from the corners of my eyes, and liked the post.

Three years. At least it ended cleanly.

I placed the phone face-down on the bed.

I lay there for another half hour before my stomach started cramping.

A full day without a single meal.

When I'd checked in, I remembered seeing a row of restaurants near the hotel.

That was when I heard it. Panting from the room next door, rising and falling in waves.

My face burned.

I got up, splashed some water on my face, and had just opened the door

when the sounds next door stopped.

A man stumbled out of the neighboring room, barely dressed, frantic.

I froze.

He turned around, and every emotion I had forced down surged back at once.

It was Kevin.

My vision went dark at the edges. But he looked at me like I was a lifeline.

He grabbed me and pulled me into the room, his voice urgent：

“Maura, check on Bertha, quick. She says her stomach really hurts.”

Bertha's face was drenched in sweat. She clutched her abdomen, moaning nonstop.

I frowned, but swallowed the bile rising in my throat.

Professionalism won. I told her to lie flat and examined her.

No bleeding from the lower abdomen. A small mercy.

The tension between my brows eased slightly. I turned to Kevin, and my voice went cold on its own.

“Nothing serious. She needs to lie down for an hour or two and use a warm compress on her lower abdomen.”

“She's less than three months along. Sex is absolutely off-limits. It's dangerous.”

“You're the father. How do you not know that?”

Kevin didn't argue. He just lowered his head.

“I was being gentle……”

He got halfway through the sentence before realizing what he'd just admitted. He scrambled to backtrack.

“That's not what I meant.”

I let out a cold laugh and slapped him across the face.

“Kevin Sanchez, you make me sick.”

I turned and slammed the door behind me.

The slap had snapped his head to the side. He stood stunned for a beat, then chased after me.

He caught my wrist and held on, refusing to let go.

“Maura, let me explain.”

“You didn't show up at City Hall today. I drank too much. I thought she was you.”

I laughed. No sound came out.

“Kevin, do you really think I'm that stupid? That easy to fool?”

He stared at me, genuinely confused.

I gave him one last bitter smile, shook his hand off, and walked back to my room.

This time, he didn't follow.

Because Bertha was calling for him from inside.

I thought I would break down crying again, pathetic as always.

But my eyes were so dry they had nothing left to give.

I picked up my phone and called the hospital.

“Hi. Is it possible to move up my flight date? I can cover the cost myself.”

The voice on the other end said yes.

I grabbed my suitcase and went straight to the airport, boarding a plane headed across the ocean.

One month later, I answered a call from an unknown number.

“Maura, you've been away on your assignment for a month now. When are you coming back?”