Pregnant for my ex’s rival.

I really didn't expect to find out like this. That was the first thing that hit me as I stood outside Ethan's apartment, holding a paper bag of takeout that was getting cold in my hands. The hallway smelled faintly of polish and that expensive perfume his mother insisted the Cross family's buildings always had. But tonight, even that scent felt different. Sharper. Colder. Almost like it was warning me to turn back before it was too late. But I didn't turn back. Because the door was slightly ajar. Just a few inches. Hardly noticeable. Anyone else might think he just forgot to close it properly. Ethan tended to overlook small things when his mind was elsewhere, and after three years, I knew all of his habits by heart. Three years. I tightened my grip on the paper bag. The grease was starting to seep through the bottom, warming my palm and reminding me this was real, not just one of those terrible dreams where everything seems familiar but nothing feels right. I took a step closer. "Ethan?" I said softly, nudging the door open just enough to peek inside. No response. The living room was dark, but the hallway light was on, casting a pale glow over the marble floor. I noticed his jacket carelessly thrown over the couch and a pair of unfamiliar heels near the coffee table. They were sleek, high, glossy black—definitely not my style, since I preferred comfort over attention. An uneasy feeling crept into my chest. I tried to tell myself not to jump to conclusions. Maybe his sister had dropped by, or Vanessa had come over to help him get ready for the dinner his parents were hosting next week. Vanessa loved heels like that, and Ethan trusted her completely. I used to trust her completely too. Or at least I thought I did. Then I heard it. At first, it sounded like the TV—just a soft murmur, broken, uneven, almost rhythmic. I frowned, tilting my head slightly to understand better. The noise got louder as I took another step forward, my heart starting to pound for no reason. Then the murmur turned into a breath. Then into a low, unmistakable moan. My entire body froze. "No…" I whispered, my throat suddenly dry. "No, this can't be happening." The paper bag slipped from my fingers and landed on the floor with a soft thud. The sound echoed more than it should in the quiet apartment, and for a moment, I hoped it would wake me from this nightmare. But the moan came again. Clearer this time. Female. My hands began to shake as I walked toward the bedroom door. Each step felt like dragging chains behind me. My heartbeat grew louder, drowning out everything else, yet still not loud enough to block the sounds coming from inside. I stopped in front of the door. It was completely closed. Light spilled through the thin gap beneath it, casting a soft golden line on the floor. I stared at that light for what felt like forever, desperately trying to think of a reasonable explanation. Something logical. Something harmless. But the truth was already clawing its way into my chest. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to open that door. Because as soon as I did, everything would change, and deep down I already knew nothing in my life would feel the same after this. Still, my hand moved on its own. My fingers wrapped around the cold metal handle, and the chill shot up my arm, making me catch my breath. I hesitated for just a second, hoping Ethan would call out from the other side, that he'd laugh and tell me I was imagining things again like he always did when I worried too much. But there was only another breath. Another sound. Another moan. My grip tightened. And then I opened the door. The world stopped. Everything stopped. Time, sound, breath, thought—everything shattered into pieces too small for me to comprehend what I was seeing. Ethan was on the bed. My bed. The one I had helped him pick out, the one where we'd spent countless nights talking about our future, the house we'd buy one day, the wedding his mother pretended to approve of. That bed was tangled with white sheets and unfamiliar perfume, filled with something so profoundly wrong it twisted my stomach. And he wasn't alone. Vanessa was underneath him. My best friend. Her long dark hair flowed over the pillow like ink, her lips parted, her nails digging into his shoulders as if she belonged there. Like she had always belonged there. Like I had never existed at all. For a moment, I was completely still. I couldn't even blink. My eyes burned, but no tears came yet. It felt like my body refused to acknowledge what was happening, as if it was waiting for someone to laugh and say this was a terrible joke. But no one laughed. Vanessa's eyes opened first. They widened when she saw me frozen in the doorway, and for a split second, I saw something flash across her face—surprise, guilt, fear—before it vanished completely. Ethan slowly turned his head, following her gaze. And then he saw me. There was no panic or shame on his face. He made no attempt to cover himself or even move away from her. Instead, his lips curled slightly, like he'd just been caught doing something mildly inconvenient instead of something utterly unforgivable. My chest tightened so painfully that I had to grip the doorframe to keep myself upright. "Why…?" I managed to whisper, my voice barely a breath. "Why are you doing this?" Silence filled the room for a few seconds, thick and suffocating. I stared at him, waiting for an explanation, a denial, an apology—anything to make this feel a little less cruel. But Ethan only sighed. Actually sighed. Like I had just barged in on him during an important meeting instead of catching him cheating with the person I trusted more than anyone else in the world. "You weren't supposed to find out like this," he said calmly, running a hand through his hair like he was bored with the whole situation. My stomach dropped. Three years. Three years of loving him, defending him, believing in him when everyone else said he was too arrogant, too careless, too selfish to treat anyone right. Three years of telling myself people only saw the cold side of him because they didn't know him like I did. I had been wrong. So painfully wrong. Vanessa finally sat up, pulling the sheet around herself, but she didn't look ashamed at all. If anything, she looked annoyed, like I had interrupted something that she had every right to enjoy. "Ariella, don't make this dramatic," she said, her voice unusually soft yet annoyingly steady. "It's not what you think." I let out a short, breathy laugh that didn't sound like me. "Not what I think?" I repeated, my voice shaking despite my efforts to stay calm. "You're in his bed. With him. What else am I supposed to think?" Ethan leaned back, completely relaxed, as if none of this had anything to do with him. "You're overreacting," he said. "We were going to talk to you eventually." The room tilted. My fingers tightened around the doorframe until it hurt, grounding me enough to stay standing. I searched his face for even a hint of the boy I fell in love with three years ago. The one who had smiled shyly when he first asked me out. The one who swore he'd never hurt me because I was different from all the other girls he'd dated. But that boy didn't exist anymore. Maybe he never had. "Talk to me?" I whispered, my throat burning. "About what? About the fact that you're cheating on me with my best friend?" Ethan's lips twitched a little. "You're making it sound worse than it is," he said casually. "Things just changed." Something inside me shattered. I could actually feel it breaking, like glass slowly splintering under too much pressure. All the memories, the promises, the little moments that once made me feel safe—they all turned sharp and painful in an instant. Vanessa looked at me again, this time with something cold in her eyes. "You've been distant for months," she said. "You barely even notice him anymore. Someone had to." That hit me harder than the betrayal itself. My chest tightened, and finally, the tears came. Not loud sobs, just silent tears streaming down my cheeks as I stared at those two people who had once meant everything to me. "I trusted you," I whispered, looking straight at her. "I told you everything. Every fight, every fear, every dream I had about us. You knew how much I loved him." Vanessa shrugged slightly. "That's exactly why I knew you weren't right for him," she said quietly. "You were too soft. Too predictable. He needs someone stronger." Ethan chuckled softly. "She's right," he added without a second thought. "You were getting boring anyway." The words slammed into me with such force that for a moment, I couldn't hear anything else. My heartbeat roared in my ears, drowning out the world, and the pain in my chest turned into something sharp and unbearable. Getting boring. Three years of love reduced to a single sentence. "You're nothing compared to her," he continued coldly, locking eyes with me without a hint of regret. That was the moment something inside me died. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just quietly, like a light being switched off forever. I nodded slowly, even though my vision blurred and my hands shook so badly I could barely feel them. "Okay," I whispered. Neither of them saw that coming. For the first time, confusion crossed Ethan's face, but I didn't stay long enough to see what came next. I turned and walked away before the tears could betray me more or my voice could show how much I was hurting. The hallway felt colder now. Empty. Unfamiliar. I walked past the shoes near the coffee table, past the couch where we'd spent countless evenings watching movies, past the framed photo of us laughing at some party his parents had forced us to attend. I didn't stop to grab anything—my bag, the jacket I'd left there last week, or even the little bracelet he gave me on our first anniversary. None of it mattered anymore. The moment I stepped outside, the night air hit my face like a slap. I inhaled sharply, trying to fill my lungs, but it felt impossible. The world spun slightly, and I had to grab the railing beside the door to steady myself. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening to me. But the silence behind that closed door told me everything I needed to know. They hadn't followed me. They hadn't called my name. They hadn't even tried to stop me from leaving. Because to them, I had already stopped mattering. My legs moved on their own, carrying me down the stairs quicker than I could think. Each step echoed loudly, matching the frantic beat of my heart. By the time I reached the street, my vision was completely blurred with tears, and I didn't even care who saw me crying. Three years. Three years of love, trust, and loyalty—gone in less than five minutes. I wiped my cheeks roughly, but the tears kept coming. The pain in my chest felt heavier with every breath, like someone had placed a weight directly on my heart and refused to lift it. "Why does it hurt this much?" I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. No one answered. Cars passed by, people laughed somewhere far off, and the city kept going as if nothing had changed since my world fell apart. It didn't care about my heartbreak. It didn't care about the betrayal or the humiliation or the way my chest felt like it was breaking apart piece by piece. I started walking without thinking, not caring where I was headed. All I knew was that I couldn't stay there. I couldn't go back. And I definitely couldn't pretend everything was okay anymore. The cold wind brushed against my face, carrying away the last fragile piece of hope I had been holding onto. Because in that moment, I finally understood something terrifying. I had lost everything tonight. And I had no idea what I was supposed to do next