I sat on a hard plastic bench in the hospital hallway for three hours, clutching the pregnancy report so tight the paper crinkled.
The hallway was cold, but my palms were sweating. My phone screen lit up and went dark, over and over.
I called Alistair a dozen times. No answer. He never picked up.
I touched my flat stomach, imagining the look on his face when I told him. We're finally having a family. I couldn't help but smile, a rare moment of hope in our cold marriage. Maybe this baby would be the bridge we needed. Maybe he would finally look at me with warmth instead of indifference.
Then I saw his social media update.
A photo of a woman's hand in his. The caption was simple: "Finally."
That's when it hit me. The smile vanished from my face. Today wasn't just any Tuesday. Today was the day Seraphina came home.
I went back to the villa alone. The lights were on, blazing brighter than they had in months.
He was there in the living room, holding her in his arms. He was so gentle with her, handling her like she was made of fragile glass—a tenderness he hadn't shown me in years.
I stood in the doorway, invisible, listening to the servants whispering in the hall. They didn't see me yet.
"Mr. Vanguard is so devoted to Miss Seraphina. Look at how happy he is."
"Well, everyone knows our Mrs. Vanguard... she's just a placeholder until the real owner returns, isn't she?"
A placeholder.
The word stabbed me in the chest. I stood there with the pregnancy report burning a hole in my hand. I felt like a punchline to a cruel joke.
Alistair finally looked up. The softness in his eyes instantly hardened into ice. His eyes didn't hold love, only irritation.
"What are you doing here?"
"I... I have something to tell you." My voice trembled, betraying my nerves.
"I'm taking Seraphina out later. Don't wait up," he said, cutting me off. He didn't even look at me twice; his focus was entirely on the woman in his arms. "Go to sleep."
Seraphina tightened her grip on his arm, looking at me with that innocent, sickly-sweet half-smile.
"Evelyn, you don't mind, do you? We have so much catching up to do."
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. That night, I stayed awake in that big, empty master bedroom until the sun came up, the report still sitting on the nightstand, unopened by him.
The next morning, I refused to give up. I went to his office. I needed to tell him face-to-face.
But he wouldn't even let me past the reception. The receptionist looked at me with pity as she blocked my way.
"Seraphina just got back. I need to be with her," he said over the intercom, his voice cold and distorted by the static. "Whatever appointment you have, handle it yourself."
"But Alistair... it's a prenatal check-up."
There was a pause. I thought he heard me. I thought the word might change something.
Then came his reply: "I don't care what it is. Stop bothering me."
He hung up and called security to escort me out.
I stood on the sidewalk, the busy city rushing past me. The noise of the traffic faded into a dull roar. I touched my stomach as the tears finally started to fall.
I didn't say anything else. I just turned around and left.
I thought about our wedding five years ago. He had looked into my eyes and whispered in my ear: "Evelyn, I'll take care of you forever."
I didn't look back at the towering building.
I guess even vows have an expiry date.