Three Days Before Our Wedding, He Married Someone Else

“The three of us can sleep together.”

I yanked my hand free of hers.

“Don't touch me. You're disgusting.”

I hadn't even used much force, but she crashed to the floor like I'd thrown her.

By the time I processed what happened and reached down to help her up, Nolan came charging over and slammed into me, knocking me to the ground.

He scooped her into his arms, face full of worry and tenderness.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Does it hurt? We're going to the hospital right now.”

I lay on the floor, facedown, as a savage pain tore through my abdomen and something warm ran down between my legs.

A cold dread hit me. I grabbed the hem of Nolan's shirt.

“Nolan, I……”

Before I could finish, he wrenched my hand off and walked away without looking back.

I lay there on the floor, cold sweat pouring down my face from the pain ripping through me, and with the last bit of strength I had, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 before everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed.

The nurse making rounds noticed me awake and gave my blanket a gentle pat.

“Bed 32, you're up.”

“What happened to me.”

My voice was raw.

“You miscarried at home yesterday and passed out. But don't worry, the D&C is done. The doctor says if everything looks fine over the next two days, you can be discharged.”

My fingers clenched the bedsheet until my knuckles ached.

“I……miscarried?”

“Yes. You were over two months along. But you're young, sweetheart. There'll be other chances.”

The nurse sighed, eyes soft with pity.

After she left, I pulled the blanket over my head and let myself cry.

Maybe it was better this way. Now there was nothing left tying me to Nolan James.

Two days later, I signed myself out.

In those two days, Nolan hadn't asked about me once. The only thing he'd posted on social media was a single photo.

Lisa's knee with a Band-Aid on it. The caption—

“Heartache.”

When I got home, Nolan was kneeling in front of Lisa, dabbing ointment on her knee.

The scrape was the size of a grain of rice, already scabbed over, yet he couldn't have been more careful.

I touched my own stomach and let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

Only after he'd finished applying the ointment, after he'd leaned down and blown gently on the spot, did he notice me standing in the doorway.

The tenderness dropped off his face like a mask. He stood up, irritation hardening into open disgust.

“Where have you been for two days? You push Lisa down, she gets hurt, and you just take off and enjoy yourself?”

Not a trace of concern in his voice. Only blame.

I didn't have the energy to fight him. I answered flatly.

“I didn't push her. She fell on her own.”

“That's right, it wasn't her fault.”

Lisa sat on the couch, looking up at Nolan with wide, wounded eyes.

“I fell by myself……please don't blame her anymore.”

Head bowed, voice small, she played the part of someone defending me while looking every inch the victim.

I turned to look at her and let out a cold laugh.

“Disgusting.”

That one word struck a nerve. His expression twisted, and he shoved me, hard. I wasn't braced for it and hit the floor.

“Lisa sticks up for you, and instead of being grateful, you call her disgusting?”

“Where do you get the nerve to call anyone disgusting, Augusta? Don't forget what you did at that bar.”

I stared at him in shock, and what little color was left in my face drained away completely.

When Nolan was starting his company and money was tight, I'd taken on extra work to ease the burden — wedding planner by day, bar waitress by night.

One night I was serving drinks to a table of men when they blocked my way and insisted I sit down and drink with them.