My Fiance will Take our Baby and Marry His Ex

Virginia’s POV

Slade never told anyone we were together.

We’d been in a relationship for three years, but he still presented himself to the world as single—charming, composed, effortlessly poised.

I never asked why he kept me a secret.

Back then, I thought just being with him was enough. It made me happy.

I started falling for him back in high school, the day he shielded me from a scalding splash of boiling water a bully had thrown.

‘It’s been ten years... And that feeling hasn’t faded… not even a little.’

Three years ago, when Slade and Millicent broke up, he drank himself into a stupor.

I followed him to the bar that night, choking on the smoke and the noise, but I stayed with him.

Somewhere in his drunken haze, he asked if I wanted to try being with him.

I knew it was out of spite. I knew he didn’t love me.

But I couldn’t resist. I… I said yes.

I told myself, ‘If I love him enough, if I treat him right, one day he’ll love me back the way I love him.’

Looking back now, I see just how terribly wrong I was.

At home, I watched the clock pass. It was almost a new day, and yet he still wasn’t home.

Past midnight, he finally messaged me.

[Hon, I have a dinner meeting tonight. I’ll be home late, don’t wait up. Get some rest.]

But I’d already seen Millicent’s post on her Insta Story—a picture of her being carried on a man’s back.

She wrote a caption: [Still the most husband-material guy ever! Gosh, I’m seriously tearing up. Should I say yes to his proposal?]

‘Dinner meeting? Dinner meeting my ass! So he proposed to her, huh?’

It was not the half-hearted promises he gave me, but a real one. The kind a guy makes when he wants someone in his life forever.

I stared at that blurry photo over and over again.

It felt like I was right back in school—watching their love from the sidelines.

Suddenly, pain twisted in my belly, so I shut my phone off. I didn’t need to see more.

‘I’m already planning to leave. What’s the point of holding on?’

So I got up and started packing. I threw away the couple’s toothbrushes, the matching mugs, and the cushions I picked out for Slade and I—everything.

Just as I was tying up the trash bag, Slade walked through the door.

He glanced at me, asking, “Didn’t you love those things? Why are you throwing them out?”

I looked down, my fingers cold, forcing my voice to stay casual.

“They’re old. I’m just tired of them.”

I thought—hoped—he’d ask again. But he didn’t. He didn’t care enough to.

He walked over, like it was just another night, placed his hand gently on my belly, and murmured to the baby, “Were you good today, little one? Daddy’s home.”

He looked like the perfect dad—sweet and gentle. There was a time that would’ve melted me.

I used to think, ‘If he loves our baby that much, maybe he loves me too. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to say it.’

But now I know. ‘He loves our baby. Not… me.’

“Hon,” he said, “you’re still upset about earlier, aren’t you? Don’t be mad I didn’t tell you about Milly working at the company. She’s in between jobs—I was just helping out. It’s temporary. She’ll leave soon.”

He noticed I wasn’t helping him with his coat. That was probably when he realized I was pissed. Finally, his voice softened to me—he was trying.

“Are you jealous?” he asked. “Don’t worry. Milly might be my ex, but I don’t have feelings for her anymore. I’ve got you now.”

I wanted to laugh. But I couldn’t.

He kissed my cheek, more affectionate than usual.

‘If I hadn’t caught you with her,’ I replied mentally, ‘if I hadn’t seen what I saw… I might’ve believed you. I might’ve felt touched. But now… everything you do—even this kiss—just feels like manipulation.’