Divorced and Pregnant, I Disappeared

Synopsis

The day our divorce was finalized, the sun blazed so fiercely it burned my eyes. Andrew Sterling pulled up outside the court, the engine idling in a low, impatient hum. His fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight. He didn't even spare me a glance. "Got the documents with you? Don't keep me waiting. I have a meeting this afternoon." I squeezed the file in my hand, its rough edges digging into my skin. Inside lay our third wedding anniversary gift—a necklace he'd given me, with its receipt tucked beside it—and a divorce agreement that had been ready for weeks. "Andrew," my voice came out dry and hollow. "Today's our anniversary." He finally turned to me, his gaze icy, as if looking at a complete stranger. "So what?" He curled his lip in disdain. "Cut the crap, Charlotte. Anniversary? What's there to celebrate? That you turned my family upside down for three years? Or that you let your mother's greed devour everything?" A lump formed in my throat, too heavy to swallow. "I never..." "Enough." He cut me off sharply and swung open the car door. "Hurry up. Once this is over, we're done for good." The process was unnervingly quick. Signatures. Stamps. Our marriage certificate exchanged for a divorce decree. The clerk, clearly accustomed to such scenes, hardly lifted her eyes. "Alright. I wish you both the best for the future." The best for the future. Clutching the divorce decree, I stood on the steps, my legs weak and unsteady. Andrew had already strode away, his back straight and unyielding, without a single trace of regret. He reached his car, then paused as if remembering something, and flicked his chin toward me. "Oh, and move out of the house as soon as you can. It's my premarital asset. I'll give you a week. Consider it a favor." The car roared off, its exhaust fumes curling into my face. I stood frozen until it vanished into the traffic, then slowly, painfully, sank into a crouch. A faint, familiar cramp twisted in my lower abdomen. I pressed a hand to my stomach, and the cold void inside me ripped open into a gaping wound. I was pregnant. I'd never gotten the chance to tell him—not at the right time, not in the right way. And now, I never would.