Their Game Was Watching Me Age

My husband’s childhood sweetheart lost a game and was punished to reveal the most “in sync” thing between her and Daniel Hayes.

She swirled her glass of wine, but her gaze landed precisely on me:

“Back when you had your first miscarriage, Natalie Evans, Daniel completely broke down. The first person he called was me.”

The room instantly fell silent.

Instinctively, I placed a protective hand over my belly, now swelling again, my heart tightening.

She chuckled lightly, unfazed, and turned to look at my husband:

“You were so fragile back then, Natalie. How could he, a man, burden you even more with his own emotions?”

“I stayed with him all night, crying alongside him, shouldering all his grief. Honestly, Natalie, the fact that you two are still together—I deserve at least half the credit.”

…

“Sophia, you’ve had too much to drink.”

Daniel’s voice broke the dead silence, indulgent and gentle.

He took the glass from Sophia Reed’s hand, his tone soothing, as if he were coaxing a child.

“Don’t talk nonsense. Natalie will take it seriously.”

Sophia leaned against Daniel’s shoulder, laughing with exaggerated sweetness.

“How is it nonsense? Daniel, tell her—aren’t we the most in sync?”

“One glance from you, and I know exactly what you’ll say next.”

“One movement from you, and I know exactly what you’re reaching for.”

Her eyes flicked toward me again, like a blade.

“This kind of connection isn’t something a few years of marriage can give.”

Friends fumbled to ease the tension.

“It’s just a game, Natalie, don’t take it to heart.”

“Yeah, Sophia and Daniel grew up together like siblings.”

Siblings?

I looked at Daniel’s hand resting gently on Sophia’s shoulder, patting her with quiet intimacy, and my stomach turned.

He didn’t even glance at me.

As if my swollen belly, my pale face, were nothing but a backdrop.

I held onto the table and rose slowly.

“I’m not feeling well. I’ll head home first.”

Only then did Daniel frown, looking at me with a hint of reproach.

“Natalie, don’t make a scene. Everyone’s here.”

“Sophia’s just blunt—you’ve known her long enough.”

Yes. I’d known her long enough.

From the very first day I met Daniel, Sophia Reed’s name had been a thorn lodged in my heart.

Everyone said their bond transcended love, that it was like family.

Everyone said I was too sensitive, too petty.

I had tried to believe it once.

But now, all I felt was disgust.

“I’m not making a scene.”

I looked at him, my voice terrifyingly calm.

“I just think I can’t afford this so-called ‘credit’ she claims.”

I turned and walked away.

Behind me, Sophia’s voice rang out, aggrieved but tinged with triumph.

“See, Daniel? I told you she’d get upset.”

“It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have told the truth.”

The moment I opened the private room’s door, I heard Daniel’s gentle consolation.

“It’s not your fault. She’s just too sensitive.”

Back home, I collapsed onto the sofa.

The villa was empty and silent. Before long, Daniel returned.

He reeked of alcohol, his expression dark.

“Natalie Evans, what was that tonight?”

He loomed over me, eyes full of disappointment.

“Embarrassing me in front of all our friends—does that make you happy?”

I looked up at him and suddenly found it laughable.

“Embarrass you? Daniel, who exactly embarrassed who?”

“Your so-called soulmate stood there flaunting how she was your first choice in grief, and you think I’m the one humiliating you?”