Blanche's POV
The car door swung open. Zain held it steady with one hand while extending his other toward Joanna. The moment their fingers touched, I spun around. Any other time, watching this would've torn me apart. Instead, I felt nothing but cold clarity.
Maybe I'd finally gotten the message.
That's how I could stand here so still, so composed.
Before, I would've sobbed until I had nothing left. Now all I wanted was answers.
"Zain," I called out, my lips shaking despite my best efforts, voice barely holding together, "what the hell did you mean by that?"
Joanna slid out of the car, her hand still wrapped around Zain's arm. Moonlight stretched their shadows into one long shape on the ground. Zain acted like I'd never spoken, guiding Joanna straight toward Blissfield Villa.
I'd lost count of how many times he'd blown me off like this. My heart had taken beating after beating. But when it came to my daughter, I couldn't just roll over. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd grabbed Zain's wrist hard enough to leave marks. "Zain!" My voice sliced through the quiet night.
"You owe me an explanation."
Zain finally stopped and turned, his eyes like ice chips.
One quick twist and he'd broken free without effort. "You're swamped with work," he said, voice flat as concrete, "and Carry's just a kid. She needs someone around. When you get pregnant again, Joanna will handle Carry."
Classic Zain—making decisions solo, dropping them like royal decrees instead of having actual conversations.
But this time, I wasn't buying his one-man show. When I'd first planned my training in the next city over, I'd handpicked a babysitter for Carry myself. Only recently did I find out Zain had canned her ages ago. While I'd been gone for months, Joanna had moved right into Blissfield Villa, playing house with my family.
I'd always avoided drama, holding onto some pathetic hope that Zain still saw me as his wife. But now he was stealing my daughter too. I couldn't just walk away.
When it came to Carry, my calm finally cracked. "I can handle my own kid," I said, voice shaking with anger. "We don't need some random woman."
Zain waved off my words like they were gnats. "It's already decided," he said flatly, his tone slamming the door on any argument.
Something inside me finally snapped. "I said I'll take care of my own daughter!" The words came out harder and louder than I'd ever let myself sound.
Tension crackled between us. Sensing the brewing storm, Joanna—who'd been hanging back behind Zain—smoothly stepped in. "Zain, maybe you two need to hash this out? I'll go check on Carry." She waited for Zain's nod before heading back toward the villa.
"Joanna, freeze right there." The command shot out of me before I could think twice. The second she looked back, my hand flew out, landing a sharp slap across her face.
Zain immediately shoved me aside and pulled Joanna against him. "Are you hurt?" he asked urgently, studying the red mark spreading across her cheek.
Joanna pressed her hand to her stinging face, tears appearing right on cue, looking like the perfect victim.
Zain fussed over Joanna. But I felt zero guilt. No self-respecting woman would mess around this deep with someone else's husband. Then again, it takes two to tango. Zain was just as guilty. I opened my mouth to say exactly that when a tiny figure came tearing out of Blissfield Villa.
Carry sprinted toward us, her little feet bare against the cold ground. The moment she reached us, she threw herself at Joanna, wrapping both arms around her legs. Her big eyes filled with worry as she looked up. "Miss Joanna, does it hurt?" she whispered, voice trembling.
I realized she must have seen what happened through the window, probably rushed down the moment she spotted her father's car returning with Miss Joanna. The way she ran to us barefoot, leaving her slippers behind in her haste, told me everything about where her loyalties lay now.
I stood there frozen, watching my husband and daughter comfort this outsider. Pain shot through my chest like a knife. I could actually hear my heart shattering. But what killed me most was seeing the little flower I'd raised now turning her thorns on me. My hand trembled as I reached out, voice breaking, "Carry."
I barely got her name out when Carry whipped around, face red with fury. Next thing I knew, she was charging at me, tiny fists pounding against my legs. "Bad Mommy! Bad Mommy!" she screamed, voice cracking with rage. "Why did you hurt Miss Joanna? I hate you!"
I went rigid, my face draining of color instantly. The truth hit me like a punch to the gut.
Everything I'd fought for in that custody battle had been nothing but my own stupid fantasy.
Neither my husband nor my daughter wanted me around anymore. Right then, I became the punchline of my own sick joke. But the worst part was carrying another baby for a man who'd never loved me to begin with.
I barely registered how long Carry kept hitting me, when she stopped, or what else she screamed. Those two words—"Bad Mommy"—had killed every last bit of hope I had left. Numb, I stood frozen for what felt like forever. Then I let out an empty laugh and walked away without even looking at Zain or Carry.
Behind me, Zain and Carry kept clustering around Joanna, never even noticing I'd left.
As I turned the corner, I stole one last look back at the two people who'd been my entire world for years.
Zain held Joanna's right hand while Carry clung to her left as they walked together—the perfect picture of a happy family heading home.
My lips twisted into something like a smile, all my pain locked inside. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. All these years had wrung me completely dry. Never again would I set myself on fire to keep them warm.
I walked away from Blissfield Villa alone, each step replaying the past years in my head.
Deep down, I'd always known this relationship was killing me slowly. I just couldn't face it. But now my eyes were wide open. From this moment on, I was putting myself first.
I caught a cab back to Alexander Villa. In the study, I drafted a new divorce agreement, laying out that all assets would be split fifty-fifty and that I wouldn't fight for custody of our daughter.
I left the signed papers on the desk, then drove through the night back to the neighboring city.
After sleeping it off, I headed to the hospital early the next morning.
The doctor on duty was my old college buddy, Patty Hunt, who knew some of my marriage drama.
When Patty heard my decision to end the pregnancy, she looked stunned. "This baby wasn't easy to conceive," Patty said. "Why give up now? Even if things are trash between you two, you can keep the baby and ditch the man."
I met Patty's stare head-on, my voice rock-steady. "Patty, real female strength means making smart choices about motherhood. Plus, my life matters too. Surgery's happening this morning. This is final."
The old Blanche was dead and gone. From now on, I'd save my love for myself and people who actually gave a damn about me.
Anyone who couldn't love me didn't deserve a spot in my life.