I Carried His Child While He Planned Their Wedding

Through Waylon Austin's Instagram update, I found out they were meeting at the usual spot today.

When I arrived, Zavier's assistant, Megan Silva, was lounging on a deck chair at the entrance of the vacation house, cigarette in hand.

She seemed a bit surprised to see me but gave a slight nod before motioning toward the second-to-last room. She was efficient but not particularly warm, something I had grown accustomed to. I smiled and headed inside.

The door to the room was wide open, and the thick smell of smoke and alcohol made me hesitate for a moment. Just then, I heard someone mention my name.

"Zavier, you're about to get married. Aren't you planning to come clean with Helen? Aren't you worried she'll make a scene when she finds out the truth?"

"She won't find out," Zavier said confidently. "What attracts me most to Helen is her innocence. She takes my word for everything."

"When she asked if I was single, I just nodded, not thinking she'd take it literally. I couldn't be bothered to explain, and she's never questioned it."

"Ha! So you're with her because she's easy to fool?"

"Not exactly. She chased me for over two months, and I felt a bit guilty. Plus, she's definitely my type, so I went along with it."

"I figured we'd date for a month or two and call it quits if it didn't work out. But, surprise, surprise, it's been almost two years."

As he said this, he squinted slightly, exhaling smoke rings, seemingly reminiscing yet boasting a bit.

His friends chuckled, "Zavier sure knows how to play both sides."

"When you get married, why not give Helen a box of chocolates too? Just say it's from a friend's wedding, let her enjoy some good vibes, maybe even hear her say congrats."

"No way, she hates the idea of marriage. Just the other day, she blew up because I wasn't ready to get hitched. I haven't bothered to smooth things over yet."

"In the future, keep topics like that away from her. And remember to block the right people on social media to keep me out of trouble."

He shot a warning glance at the friend who had suggested the idea, the cigarette's glow flickering against the colorful party lights in the hallway, blurring my view of his true nature. A chill crept up from my feet, cold enough to make my whole body shiver.

I stumbled slightly, kicking an empty wine bottle by the door, the sound of breaking glass interrupting the laughter inside.

Someone called out, "Megan Silva?"

"Yes, it's me."

A pair of hands steadied me, and Megan moved to stand at the door, conveniently shielding half of my silhouette from view.