After He Faked Our Marriage, I Was Matched to the Perfect Man

"You're sick. Stay in the guest room for the next few days so you don't pass it on to Caroline."

Tears slid from the corners of my eyes and seeped into the pillow.

I couldn't understand how a person could rot so completely.

He stood in the doorway, meticulously wiping his hands with rubbing alcohol, as though terrified of missing a single spot.

Footsteps pattered from the hallway, and the next second Caroline threw herself into Lance's arms.

The guest room door clicked shut. The lock turned. No matter how hard I pounded, no matter how loud I screamed, no one answered.

I was imprisoned. All because I'd come down with a fever.

I slid down against the door and sat on the cold floor. There was nothing left inside me to stir.

In the darkness my phone buzzed. A notification popped up on the screen.

Marriage match successful. One day until certificate issuance.

I tugged the corner of my mouth into something bitter and hollow, then looked away without checking the matched profile.

A full day passed. It was as though I'd been forgotten entirely.

My stomach, already fragile, cramped with pain after a whole day without food. My throat was parched and raw, and even the air I exhaled felt hot.

The door cracked open a sliver. Caroline stood as far back as she could, holding a stale, flattened piece of bread.

She tossed it at my feet the way someone might throw scraps to a stray dog.

Then she raised her phone and snapped a photo of me.

"Didn't you always say you despised homewreckers?"

"Now I'm going to make sure you know exactly what it feels like to be one."

Her smile was wide and triumphant. She turned away, typed up a caption, and posted it online.

She cast herself as the victim, a helpless pregnant woman, claiming I had seduced her husband while she was vulnerable.

In the photo I looked like a stray that had been kicked into the gutter. Matted hair. Hollow face. Utterly wrecked.

My phone erupted with notifications. It didn't take long before someone dug up my personal information.

"Looks decent on the outside, but behind closed doors she has no shame."

"Birth rates are already dropping year after year and she picks NOW to torment a pregnant woman? Rotten to the core."

"Maybe her mother was the same way. Like mother, like daughter."

I shook my head, a broken whimper escaping my throat. "No, that's not... it's not..."

I wanted to scream that Caroline was the real homewrecker. That I was the victim.

But then I remembered the marriage certificate, the one that had burned to ash.

My hand dropped slowly to my side.

After a long silence, I forced the words out in a voice scraped raw.

"Let me go. Whatever is between you two, I won't interfere anymore."

Caroline let out a cold laugh.

"No."

"I want you to watch this baby being born with your own eyes. I want you to see me take everything you care about, piece by piece."

She leaned in close to my ear. Her voice dropped to a whisper meant only for the two of us.

"Want to know when this baby was conceived?"

My chest seized. I stumbled back instinctively, but Caroline grabbed my arm and locked her fingers around it like a vice.

Her voice kept going.

"On your mother's death anniversary."

My pupils contracted. Hatred surged through me like a tidal wave.

I remembered that day. Lance had promised to come, and then canceled at the last minute.

"There's been an emergency at work. I can't get away."

"Ruth, let's go visit your mother together next year, okay?"

Now that I thought about it, there had been a faint breathlessness in his voice when he'd said those words.

But my grief had been so heavy that day. I hadn't noticed.

My fists clenched until my knuckles went white and my fingernails bit into my palms.

If I'd had a knife in my hand, I would have buried it in Caroline's stomach without a second thought.