Abandoned Bride's Ruthless Comeback

the altar, pregnant with his chil

st like that, he was gone-rushing to the side of his "fragile" st

er understand their loyalty. This was the man who baked her special cakes in the middle of the night w

n was a physical weight. I was tired of being his second choice, th

rminated the pregnancy that tied me to him. I wasn't just leaving anymore. I was going to spend the

pte

O'DONN

ust me, but the expectations, the promises, the future we' d meticulously planned. But this time, standing there in the pristine white of a gown

er the fabric, a smal

maybe he had, and chose to ignore it. He was looking at me, though, his

s lips grazing my forehead. "Soon,

e a vow. It fe

and resonant, ready to begin the sacred words.

ng of a phone cut through the

d by a cold, distant look. It was the same look I' d seen so ma

e expensive fabric of his sleeve. "Don't," I pleade

ack to my pleading eyes. He didn't answer it. A flic

Persistence. Always

e murmured, already pulling

racking. My hand involuntarily found my belly a

reath. "It's Kamala," he stated, as if that explained everything.

s numb to the excuses, the fabricated crises. This

A text message. His face drained of color, then flushed

ction' to the gluten-free cake at our engagement announcement. Or the 'sudden onset anxiety' that

reserved for me when I dared to speak the truth about her. "

rate sound. "Our child doesn't? This famil

ce, laced with manufactured panic, could be heard even across the qui

o late. He was already gone. His body was still here, but his min

de me stumble. "I'm sorry, Clara," he muttered, his eyes

l. It was a plea, a warning, a desperate attempt to shat

. I felt their stares, a thousand tiny knives piercing my already bleeding hea

r. I found him at the hospital, holding her hand, her eyes wide and innocent, a triumphant smirk hidden from his vi