Three Years Too Late My Fiancé's Secret

"You're pregnant?"

Something detonated in my ears, a sharp crack that didn't belong to the room.

It took me a long moment to steady myself. Then I gave a cold smile and turned to Harry Henson.

"Leonora's pregnant. Why are you the one losing it? Don't tell me the baby's yours."

The hospital room went dead silent.

Harry froze.

He looked at me, and the smile he forced was a fraction off.

"How could it be? I just thought it was... unexpected."

I didn't bother answering. I only turned, slowly, to Leonora.

"So when are you finally going to bring this boyfriend of yours around for me to meet?"

I'd always known Leonora had a boyfriend.

From the first time she mentioned him, I'd offered to vet him myself.

She was my best friend. I genuinely wanted her to find the man who'd make her happy.

But every time, he was away on business, or buried in some project at a make-or-break stage.

From start to finish, I never once laid eyes on this so-called boyfriend.

The thought pulled a thin, bitter smile out of me.

Right. Her boyfriend really was a busy man.

Busy juggling two women, busy switching between two identities without missing a beat, busy making sure I never found out he existed.

Leonora dropped her eyes and, without thinking, glanced at Harry.

The instant their eyes met, Harry was the first to look away.

"If he's willing... I'll definitely bring him to meet you."

I closed my eyes. I had no patience left for the way the two of them kept stealing those furtive looks.

"You should both head back. I want to sleep for a while."

The moment the door shut, the room was finally mine alone.

I opened my eyes and picked up the phone from the nightstand. The screen was full of messages from Andy.

"Sis, are you okay?

"You didn't drink that glass of wine, did you?"

"Why aren't you answering?"

"Don't tell me... you said yes to Harry Henson's proposal?"

I stared at the screen and slowly typed out a few words.

"I didn't accept his proposal. I cut every tie with him for good."

Andy's reply came almost instantly.

"Then what's your plan now, sis?"

I leaned back against the pillow and thought about it, eyes on the ceiling.

"Let's talk once I've recovered."

Through those days in the hospital, Harry showed up at my door without fail, every single day, soup in hand.

"Sarah, I made this myself. Drink a little more."

He said it so naturally that it threw me, as if none of it had ever happened.

I looked at his face, and suddenly I was eighteen again.

That was the year my father lost at the tables and buried himself in debt.

When the men he owed came pounding on the door, my father dropped to his knees, his shaking hand pointing at me.

"I really can't pay. I'll give her to you instead. Will that do?"

I remember standing in the corner, shaking all over.

They laughed and grabbed my arms and dragged me toward the door, their nails sinking into my flesh until the tears spilled from the pain.

And just when I thought it was all over, Harry came bursting in with a butcher's cleaver.

He was still a thin slip of a boy then, but he planted himself in front of me, stubborn as anything, blade leveled at the men, and roared,

"You touch her and see what happens."

The men stared for a beat, then burst out laughing.

"Kid, who the hell do you think you are?"

Then the fists came down, the clubs came down, all of it raining over his head.

I was thrown aside, my mind still catching up to what was happening, when I saw Harry clawing his way across the floor toward me, throwing his whole body over mine to cover me.