My Wedding Became Their Baby Announcement

I stared at my phone, the screen blurring through my tears. Three days since I'd discovered Michael and Quinn's betrayal, and the nightmare was only getting worse. I'd retreated to my family's summer cottage in Newport, desperate for solitude and space to breathe. But the digital world offered no escape.

"Coward," I whispered, scrolling through Quinn's latest Instagram post—a perfectly staged photo of her hand resting on her still-flat stomach, Michael's arm draped around her shoulders. The caption read simply: "New beginnings." The timestamp showed she'd posted it exactly when the wedding ceremony should have begun.

My phone buzzed with another notification. Someone had tagged me in a comment: "@AvaReynolds what did you DO to lose them both? #TeamQuinn"

I threw my phone across the room, watching it bounce harmlessly on the worn leather sofa. The cottage had always been my sanctuary, filled with memories of summers before college, before Michael, before everything complicated. Now even these walls couldn't protect me from the storm Quinn had unleashed.

Earlier that morning, I'd received frantic texts from three different bridesmaids. Apparently, Quinn had made quite the performance at the empty ballroom where my reception should have been held. She'd arrived early, eyes artfully reddened, and greeted arriving guests with a story about my "emotional breakdown."

"Poor Ava just couldn't handle the pressure," she'd reportedly sobbed to Eleanor Foster, Michael's mother. "We're all so worried about her mental state."

I laughed bitterly, pouring myself another glass of wine. The irony was suffocating—Quinn painting me as unstable while she was the one who'd systematically betrayed me, seduced my fiancé, and was now parading their affair like some twisted victory lap.

A knock at the door startled me from my thoughts. I froze, wine glass halfway to my lips. No one knew I was here except my mother, who had reluctantly agreed to give me space after I'd refused to "handle this quietly" as she'd suggested.

The knock came again, more insistent.

"Ava? It's Ethan. I know you're in there—your car's outside."

Ethan Hayes. My childhood friend. The last person I expected, but somehow exactly who I needed.

I opened the door, not bothering to wipe my tear-stained face or fix my messy ponytail. Ethan stood on the porch, his tall frame silhouetted against the setting sun, arms full with what looked like photo albums and a thermos.

"You look terrible," he said, his direct honesty oddly comforting.

"Thanks." I stepped aside to let him in. "How did you find me?"

"Process of elimination." He set his items on the coffee table. "You weren't answering calls. Weren't at your apartment. This seemed like the next logical place."

"Does everyone know?" I asked, sinking back onto the sofa.

"About Michael and Quinn?" He nodded grimly. "It's everywhere. She's making sure of it."

He opened the thermos, and the rich smell of hot chocolate filled the room. "Your favorite. With the tiny marshmallows, just like when we were kids."

Something in his thoughtfulness broke me. Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks as he poured the chocolate into two mugs and handed me one.

"Have you seen what she posted?" I asked, voice cracking.

"I have." His jaw tightened. "And the damage control she's doing. There's a photo circulating of Michael writing 'I'm sorry' on a napkin, supposedly to her. She tagged three gossip columns."

I closed my eyes. "They're trying to rewrite history. Make me the villain."

"Look at me, Ava." Ethan's voice was firm. He waited until I met his gaze. "Anyone who knows you—really knows you—isn't buying it for a second."

He reached for one of the albums he'd brought. "That's why I brought these. To remind you who you are."

As he opened the first page, showing photos of us as children building sandcastles on this very beach, my phone buzzed again from across the room. Another notification. Another attack.

But for the first time in days, I didn't rush to see what new damage had been done. Instead, I leaned closer to Ethan, letting the warmth of old memories temporarily shield me from the cold reality waiting on my screen.