The Man She Trained for Me

Rhett froze.

Then, he cautiously reached out, his hand hovering over her still-flat stomach.

His eyes filled with an unguarded tenderness.

Destiny flinched back, trying to push him away.

But he seized her wrist, yanking her back into his arms.

"You're carrying my child, and you want to marry someone else?!"

"I've already lost one child. I can't lose this one, too."

His voice cracked, thick with a choked sob.

In that instant, the world went silent.

I heard nothing but a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

My heart clenched.

I instinctively covered my lower abdomen, but my palm met only emptiness.

His child.

So, I was the only one who had lost a child.

For a moment, I wanted to storm in there and demand to know why.

What about our baby?

What did our five years together mean?

But in the next second, I saw the new tattoo on his wrist as he lowered his head.

The questions died in my throat.

A thorny rose, its dark ink covering the "G" he had once gotten for "Genevieve."

I had asked him about it once. He'd said it was because I was his whole world.

Only now was the painful truth laid bare.

A thorny rose.

Destiny's favorite flower.

All the strength drained from my body.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

I turned and fled.

So, Destiny was the past Rhett never spoke of. She was the secret etched into his skin.

For the five years we were together, Rhett had been the perfect lover.

He kept a dedicated shared calendar, meticulously filled with my preferences and habits, with notes on everything.

From my work schedule to which restaurant's dessert I preferred.

He never missed an anniversary or holiday, never forgot the flowers and surprises, and always called to say goodnight.

I once teased Rhett about it.

"Rhett, are you just naturally this thoughtful? Who taught you to be so good?"

He'd smiled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Taught? Who needs to be taught? When you love someone, these things just come naturally."

Destiny's voice echoed in my ears from a long-ago conversation.

"Oh, my first love… he was so clueless at first, but I trained him, bit by bit."

"He had to keep a list of my preferences, plan surprises for anniversaries in advance, and say goodnight no matter how busy he was."

"When I was upset, he wasn't allowed to reason with me; he had to soothe me first."

She had laughed, so smug.

"Men… once you train them, they know how to dote on you."

At the time, I had even joked back.

"Well, his next girlfriend will have you to thank."

It turned out all the devotion I'd treasured was just a shadow she had left behind.