Saying Goodbye to The Old Bitter Love

I gazed into his eyes, and it was as though I could see the depths of Martin’s mind. There, Jenna’s furrowed brows and soft smiles lingered, occupying far more space than I ever could. Perhaps I accounted for a mere five percent.

The realization left me feeling suffocated. I mumbled an excuse and stepped outside to catch my breath, to avoid lashing out at him.

He watched me go, his eyes brimming with a quiet plea, a touch of hurt, and an unspoken challenge.

“Wow, is that the boss’s wife? She’s stunning,” a voice whispered nearby.

“Yeah, she and the boss are simply a match made in heaven.”

“But don’t you think the boss’s wife looks just like Jenna? It’s uncanny.”

“Maybe the boss is just hopelessly in love, and his secretary is a stand-in for her?”

Their murmurs reached me, though I stood a distance away, watching Jenna from the corner of my eye. Her gaze was locked on Martin, her reddened eyes revealing too much. When she turned, our eyes met.

Her look spoke of resignation—an emotion that I couldn’t quite unravel. Was she unwilling to be my double? Or was she unwilling to be just my double?

Later, in the break room, I placed a steaming cup of coffee before her. Jenna hesitated, then shook her head.

“I’m pregnant,” she said quietly.

The cup seemed to burn in my hand, as if it carried the weight of a thousand revelations. My grip faltered, but I forced myself to sit across from her, steady and composed.

So that’s why Martin had been so attentive, so careful.

“I don’t even know if I should congratulate you…” I began, my words heavy with ambiguity.

Her response cut me short. “I’m going to terminate the pregnancy.”

I slid a surgery consent form and a divorce agreement across the table toward her.

“If you can get Martin to sign these, then his position—everything—will be yours.”

“Really?” she asked, her tone a mixture of disbelief and suspicion.

I nodded, resolute. I had no room for deceit, nor tolerance for a marriage where five people occupied the same space.

I didn’t know how Jenna managed to get his signature, but the documents returned to me bore Martin’s unmistakable handwriting. Strangely, it seemed he hadn’t even realized what he had signed.

On the day of the surgery, my mother—who had been abroad—returned unexpectedly.

“I’ll be staying with you,” she said firmly, her gaze unwavering.

Her next words sent a shiver down my spine.

“Your brother is here too.”

My breath hitched. She was referring to Harry, her second husband’s son—my stepbrother and childhood playmate.

Years ago, when I refused to emigrate for the sake of Martin, Harry had stormed off, severing contact with me entirely. Ten years of silence followed.

I nodded in acknowledgment, though unease settled in my chest. There was no time to dwell on the past. My priorities were clear: end this pregnancy and finalize the divorce.

Fate, however, had other plans.

At the hospital, my mother and I ran into Martin, who was accompanying Jenna for a check-up. Across the bustling corridor, his gaze found mine.

“Cathy.” he called out, his voice filled with disbelief.

He pushed through the crowd, his steps frantic. But the moment his eyes landed on my mother, he froze.

“Mom? Why are you back?”

Though my mother didn’t yet know the full story, her sharp instincts never failed her.

“Just tying up some loose ends,” she replied, her tone neutral but cutting.

Their exchange blurred in my ears as my attention shifted to Jenna, who stood nearby. The scene before me was eerily familiar, like the day of the fire—Martin running from her side to mine.

I watched her through the crowd. In this love triangle—or square—there were always too many people. Always someone left crowded out.

“Honey,” Martin stammered, pulling out his phone. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “Today isn’t your maternity check-up, is it?”

A fine sweat even broke out on Martin’s forehead as he pulled out his cell phone and looked at the calendar's schedule.

The memo densely recorded all of my postpartum checkup data, the places that needed attention.

As well as which days I felt sick, what I ate, and how many times I threw up.

The strings of words and numbers were like densely packed needles that stung my eyes.

An unbearable bitterness surged through me, threatening to drown me. That overwhelming love I once felt for him came crashing back like a relentless tide, suffocating me.

I swallowed my sobs and said calmly, "I just came here to pick a report. '

Martin exhaled a sigh of relief and turned around to look at Jenna who was standing not too far away. 

"Honey, please don't misunderstand. Just now, Jenna suddenly felt nauseous. So, I don't have a choice but to bring her here for a check-up. "

I acted as if I hadn’t noticed the maternity booklet in Jenna’s hand, lowering my eyes and clenching my fists.

Nausea was real but the doctor’s visit was a pretense. 

Martin had mastered weaving the deception into the truth, to make a believable lie.

In the past, I used to be so stupid and naïve. I always believed everything that he said, so I missed a lot of opportunities to uncover the truth.

“It’s fine. Her health is more important. I’ll just grab my report and leave,” I said, feigning indifference as I patted his shoulder.

He let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief and told me, “Wait for me and we’ll head home together.”

I neither agreed nor refused.

As I turned away, tears escaped and rolled down my face.

Martin, do you even realize that you are about to lose both me and your child forever?

When he disappeared around the corner, I opened the door, walked to the operating room, changed my clothes into a hospital gown and lay on the bed to wait for the doctor to do the surgery.

In the stillness of the empty operating room. I could hear the sound of the heartbeats of mine and my baby.

My mind was filled with memories of happiness that I shared in the past with Martin. Yet, those countless sweet memories now felt like shards of sharp glass that pierced my heart.

I saw again the frantic panic in his expression before he left, a cruel ghost of our past.

Just as I closed my eyes, a commotion erupted outside.

“Sir, you can’t barge in here. This is a restricted area.”

“Sir, please stop!”

I opened my eyes only to see nurses trying to block someone, it was Martin. 

His eyes were red and he rushed forward like a madman while shouting my name, "Cathy!"