My Boyfriend Told Me He Was Enlisted, But Was Married to Another Woman

I didn’t even have the strength to be angry. I reached out, wanting to touch his face, but my hand dropped weakly. The next thing I knew, everything faded to black.

Somewhere in the haze, I felt Chand tense up. His voice was frantic, calling my name as he carried me out of the house.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was him gripping the doctor's collar. "Why did she pass out?! If you can't figure it out, get lost!"

I tugged at his sleeve weakly. "Don't… don't make a scene. I'm just exhausted. Haven't been eating much."

He let out a slow breath, finally relaxing. Then the door handle turned. A woman stepped in, her hair flawless, her expression puzzled. "Chand, who is this?"

His fingers slipped from mine. I recognized her immediately. Sandra Walsh. The famous jewelry designer. My boyfriend’s wife.

I forced a small smile. "Oh, I fainted on the street. This gentleman was kind enough to help me."

Sandra's face eased. She nodded, then left. For the first time, I hated how sharp my eyesight was. Because in her hand, I had seen it clearly, a pregnancy report.

Chand hesitated, looking at me. "Jayla, why didn't you ask me?"

I shook my head with a soft smile. "I trust you have your reasons."

If this was all a dream, I might as well let it stay a beautiful one until the end. Chand brought over a bowl of chicken soup, blowing on it before leaning in. When he moved, the couple’s ring on his necklace shifted.

In the sports car earlier, his neck had been bare. I met his eyes and smiled. "Chand, thank you."

He tilted his head slightly, confused.

‘Thank you for the performance. Thank you for staying in character,’ I thought without saying it.

A knock at the door broke the moment. "Mr. Kimball, your wife is ready for her prenatal check-up," the nurse said.

Chand stiffened. He turned to me slowly. I yawned, rolling onto my side. "I'm so sleepy, Chand. Let me nap for a bit."

He exhaled in relief, pressed a kiss to my forehead and left quietly. The second the door closed, warm tears slid down my face, soaking the pillow.

I couldn't hold them back anymore. I got up and followed him out. At the corner, Sandra's voice was sharp. "How much longer, Chand?"

Chand sounded tired. "Just a few more days, Sandra. Wait for me. I'll explain everything."

Sandra flung a stack of papers at Chand’s face, her voice dripping with disdain. "So this is why you keep such a clean image, because you’ve got a thing for side chicks. She couldn’t even afford a toilet in our house if she worked her whole life. She doesn’t deserve you."

The papers scattered everywhere. My eyes landed on them and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Page after page, filled with details of our past. Photos. Memories. Proof of a love I thought was real.

I saw us back in college, working part-time, splitting an ice cream, laughing like we had the whole world ahead of us. Now, the sweetness was gone, washed away by the truth.

Chand said nothing. Sandra was already gone. He crouched down, picking up the papers one by one, his fingers lingering over an old photo of us.

I turned and rushed back to the hospital, my pulse pounding. But Sandra was waiting for me. She tossed a bank card and a pregnancy report onto the floor. "I’m having his baby. So do us all a favor, stay out of our lives."

She crossed her arms, smirking. "You’ll never make this kind of money in your lifetime. Take it and walk away. Consider it payment for the years you wasted."

My fingers curled around the card, my voice barely a whisper. "Fine."

The moment she left, I pulled out my phone, typed up my resignation and hit send.

That night, Chand showed up at the hospital, packing up my things like nothing had happened. He draped his coat over my shoulders, his voice softer than I had ever heard. "Layer up, you’ll catch a cold. You scared me, you know?"