From Betrayal to the Moonlit Bond

I even learned how to cook for him, how to please his family and friends. I thought my dedication would eventually earn his love and appreciation. I was wrong.

The moment Bethany appeared, all my sacrifices became a joke. He looked at her with a love and tenderness he never once gave me. He bought her expensive jewelry, threw lavish birthday parties for her, did all the romantic things I once dreamed of. Meanwhile, I became invisible.

He grew distant. Cold. Indifferent. He forgot my birthday. Forgot my favorite things. Forgot the promises he once made to me.

“Hazel, I will love you forever. Only you. I’ll never let you go.”

After what happened that night, Rio assumed I would act like I always did—swallow my pain, endure his temper, pretend nothing had happened. Maybe he thought a warm bath could wash away my humiliation, could cleanse him of his sins.

He was wrong. Some things, once shattered, could never be pieced back together.

His phone rang, slicing through the stillness. The name on the screen blinked. Beth.

Without hesitation, he answered, his voice shifting to gentle and affectionate, the complete opposite of the man who had just shredded me with his words.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

Bethany’s sugary voice poured through the speaker, laced with a childish whine, “What are you doing?”

“I’m just finishing something up, baby.”

“I miss you.”

“You miss me? Well, I miss you too.” Rio chuckled, his tone dripping with indulgence. “What do you want to eat? I’ll grab it on the way.” He didn’t even try to hide it. He flirted with her as though I wasn’t there, as though I didn’t exist.

I closed my eyes, sucking in a sharp breath, trying my hardest not to gag.

Then it hit me—the deafening crack of my heart breaking. My eyes snapped open as something rose in my throat. I sat up straight and gagged.

“What now?” he snapped, irritated.

“I feel sick,” I wiped my mouth, glaring at him. “I feel sick just looking at you,” I added coldly.

He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the dry heaving or the hatred in my eyes. As he buttoned his shirt, he shot me a condescending glance.

“Oh, please.” I could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. “If you were so miserable, why didn’t you say anything? Are you trying to put on a show? Gosh, you’re as dramatic as ever.”

He grabbed his coat and made for the door, pausing for a second before adding, without turning around, “And don’t even bring up divorce again. It’s getting old.”

The moment the door slammed shut, I rushed to the sink, gagging violently. My stomach twisted in agony as I vomited until there was nothing left.

“Rio, you bastard.” My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

I turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face before lifting my gaze to the mirror.

Pale. Haggard. Broken. The woman staring back at me was a ghost of who I used to be. I let out a bitter laugh. Was this really me?

For days, I had been plagued by nausea, unable to keep anything down. At first, I thought it was just the sheer disgust from everything Rio and Bethany had done to me. But as I lowered my gaze, dread pooled in my stomach.

Two red lines. Stark. Unmistakable.

I was pregnant. With Rio’s child.

Isn’t that just the cruelest kind of irony? The moment I finally decided to walk away from this marriage, life threw this at me.

Should I get rid of it? My fingers tightened around the small plastic device, my mind spinning. My hand instinctively went to my stomach, where a fragile life—my flesh and blood—was beginning to grow. But I couldn’t imagine raising this child in a home without a father.