Chapter 3
The next day, Maya Young dropped a new social post.
She named no one. Every word, though, was aimed straight at me.
[I know I don't belong in another couple's happy home, but the baby kicked all night. I was terrified.]
Her photo showed her on the balcony.
Behind her stood the plant I hauled upstairs on move-in day.
Hostile comments flooded the section.
[The house sits empty. Why begrudge a pregnant woman a short stay?]
[Her husband passed away. Must engaged women be this cruel?]
[Her fiancé's got real backbone; men like him are rare these days.]
Someone dug up wedding footage online.
Simon stormed offstage in the clip, me standing rigid, emotionless.
Commenters branded me cold-blooded.
They called my words far too harsh.
Many claimed I envied a pregnant woman, and bad luck would catch up.
Our clients spotted the thread too.
A partner cracked a half-joke at our afternoon meeting.
"Ms. Evans, you're viral online! Your family drama outshines our project launch," he said.
A handful of attendees laughed.
I shut my laptop. "Mr. Lewis, we're here to discuss Northpoint Depot delivery, not my private life."
He fell silent, flustered.
Post-meeting, Simon waited downstairs with my favorite snack. "Claire."
I walked straight past him.
He hurried after me. "I saw the online drama. I told Maya to delete her post."
"Did she remove it?" I asked.
He froze mid-step. "She's distraught; I wouldn't pressure her."
I let out a sharp snort.
Weariness lined Simon's face. "She never expected strangers to dig into your life. Pregnancy leaves her overly sensitive, and she needed an outlet."
"So, all this hate is my due?" I snapped.
"That's not my point." He reached out, aiming to grasp my arm.
I dodged his reach.
Hurt flickered in his eyes. "Claire, seven years together. Must you speak so coldly?" he said.
'There it is, that seven-year line again.
'As if seven years could erase him abandoning me mid-wedding.
'As if it could fix him removing our wedding portraits.
'As if it could wipe away all vicious online comments.'
I asked, "Simon, will you ever issue a public explanation?"
"If I speak up now, Maya gets dragged into the spotlight," he said.
His tone softened. "She carries a child; stress harms her."
"What about me?"
He stared at me, gaze tangled with conflict. "You're far stronger than her."
That single line killed all urge to argue.
I grabbed the snack, walked to the trash bin, and tossed its contents away.
Simon's face drained of color. "Claire..."
"Don't bring me anything ever again," I said.
I stepped into the subway station while my phone buzzed, It was my mother calling.
Her voice trembled. "Claire, your father got into an altercation at the market. Rumors spread you bullied a pregnant woman, and now he can barely catch his breath."
I gripped the metal rail, fingertips prickling with numbness.
"I'm heading home at once," I said.
Dad's heart had always been fragile.
We'd waited ages for his scheduled surgery.
Our family lacked wealth; Simon and I scraped together every cent for the procedure fees.
The total hit one hundred thousand.
Half came from my year-end bonus, and Simon pledged to cover the rest.
I arrived home to Dad slumping on the couch, face ashen.
"Don't waste tears on someone like him," he said.
I knelt to check his blood pressure.
"I'm not crying," I replied flatly.
Mom wiped tears in the kitchen. "How could he act this way? You two were nearly wed. He let another woman occupy your house and abandoned you at the wedding. How is this acceptable?"
I said nothing. That night, I pulled up our joint bank account. Half was gone.
I stared at the screen long before dialing Simon.
"Claire?" he picked up.
"Where did all the account money go?" I demanded sharply.
Silence hung for seconds. "I was about to tell you," he said.
I squeezed my eyes shut. "What did you spend it on?"
"Maya needs a postpartum nanny and private clinic prenatal care. Public hospitals stay packed; long queues leave her unwell," Simon said.
I could barely process his words. "That money was reserved for Dad's surgery!"
"I know. I'll deposit the full sum back tomorrow," Simon replied, tone detached.
"Tomorrow? Dad's admission is imminent," I snapped.
Panic edged his voice. "I never meant to neglect your father. Maya had an urgent deposit due, and clinic beds are hard to secure."
My fingers tightened around my phone. "Her nanny matters more than Dad's life?"
He drew a slow breath. "Claire, don't speak that way. I confirmed the surgery is not immediate. Maya's due soon with no one to rely on, so she cannot wait."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "She cannot wait, yet Dad, I, our wedding and house all can."
His voice dropped low. "You are the woman I intend to marry. That is why I trusted you to bear all heavy burdens."
Darkness swam across my vision.
'It hits me: Dad's surgery, my ruined reputation, my wedding, every ounce of my suffering. All he saw was heavy labor dumped onto me.
'Because he is going to marry me. So I was the one he sacrificed.'
I ended the call.
Ten minutes later, Simon transferred two thousand.
Attached note: [To tide you over temporarily.]
I stared at the sum, suddenly recalling the premium prenatal package he'd bought Maya, which started at three thousand.