Ivy sat by the window, staring at the city lights that flickered like dying stars. The weight of her secret pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe. She clutched the ultrasound photo in her trembling hands, the faint outline of her baby a bittersweet reminder of the life she carried within her—a life she had chosen to protect, no matter the cost. But at what cost? Arlo's face flashed in her mind, his piercing eyes searching hers for answers she could never give. The last time they had spoken, his voice had been laced with suspicion, his words sharp enough to cut through her already fragile heart. He thought she was betraying him. Scarlet had made sure of that. And now, Arlo believed that Theo—the doctor trying to save her life—was something more than he could ever be. "You don't understand," she had whispered to herself, the words never brave enough to reach him. How 1 could she tell Arlo the truth? That her kidneys were failing, that every day was a battle to stay alive, and that their unborn child might be the only thing keeping her going? Instead, she had fled. Fled from the man she loved, from the life they had built, and from the judgment in his eyes. New York was supposed to be a fresh start, a place where she could fight her illness in peace. But as the plane took off, Ivy couldn't shake the feeling that she had left more than just her past behind. She had left her heart. And Arlo? He stood in the shadows of their once-happy home, his fists clenched and his heart torn apart. Watching Ivy leave without a word felt like the ultimate betrayal. And Scarlet's whispers only added fuel to the fire. "She's with him," she had said, her voice dripping with venom. "She's been meeting Theo for weeks. Don't you see, Arlo? She's not the woman you think she is." Arlo wanted to believe it was a lie. But the image of Ivy sitting across from Theo in that café played on a loop in his mind. He couldn't ignore it. He couldn't forgive it. And now, as he stared at the empty bed they once shared, his love for her began to feel like a bitter memory. Can love survive lies? Can it endure betrayal?
Or does it have an expiration date, like everything else in life?