Chapter 1

When my water broke, Samuel Grant was busy returning a call from Julia Evans.

It was 1:27 AM. I was gripping the dining table, the hem of my dress already soaked. My belly tightened in waves of pain that made sweat break out on my back.

The phone buzzed nonstop on the kitchen island. One name popped up on the screen.

Julia.

Samuel glanced at me. His fingers paused for half a second. Then he picked up the call.

As soon as the call connected, a woman's voice came through, trembling, barely holding back tears.

"Samuel, he left me at a service area. My phone's dying, and I'm scared to be alone. Can you come get me?"

I clutched my stomach, doubling over from the pain, but I still heard every word clearly.

Samuel's face changed. He grabbed his car keys and headed straight for the door.

I reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt, my voice trembling. "My water broke."

He glanced down at the water stain on the floor, his brows tightly knit, as if working out some impossible equation.

Then, to my shock, he said, "Just stay calm. If I take you to the hospital now, I won't be able to get back in time. She's all alone out there on the highway right now. Something bad could happen to her."

I couldn't help but laugh, but my eyes burned with unshed tears.

"So the baby inside me isn't yours?"

"Laura, this isn't the time for drama," Samuel said, reaching out to help me up, but I slapped his hand away. "Julia just went through a breakup. She's a mess. She has no one with her."

"So I'm just supposed to have a husband who's basically not there at all? Is that it?"

His voice dropped, already impatient. "You're still three days away from your due date. Bleeding doesn't mean immediate labor. I'll pick her up and be back in two hours, tops."

I looked at him, my fingers trembling from the pain.

"Samuel Grant, if you walk out that door today, we're done."

He paused for a split second.

Just a split second.

Then he still picked up the car keys, pulled the door open, and walked away without looking back.

*****

"Don't make this bigger than it is. I'll be back once I sort this out."

The door slammed shut behind him.

I stood alone in the middle of the living room, water pooling around my feet, the ache in my belly grew sharper and sharper. Outside the window, a flash of headlights passed by, then quickly disappeared into the night.

Suddenly, the pain in my belly stopped.

No, not stopped. It was that the pain in my heart overwhelmed my belly, drowning out everything else.

I leaned against the wall, then slowly slid down to the floor, picking up my phone to call Samuel.

The first call went unanswered.

The second, he hung up.

The third, his phone was already off.

I stared at the dark screen for a few seconds, then sent a message to my best friend, Grace Miller.

[Come to my place and take me to the hospital. By the way, find me the best divorce lawyer at your firm.]

Grace replied instantly: [Don't scare me. Aren't you about to give birth?]

I typed slowly, fighting through the waves of tightening pain.

[Yeah. So I'm going to have a baby and get a divorce at the same time.]

By the time Grace arrived, I was so pale from the pain I looked ready to pass out.

She walked in, spotted the puddle at my feet, and her face drained of color. "Where's Samuel?"

I pushed myself up from the couch, forcing a faint, bitter smile. "He went to rescue the girl he never got over."

Grace let out a curse and grabbed my arm, helping me toward the door. "I can't believe this. Is that guy even human?"

"No."

I held my belly, inching toward the door one step at a time, and muttered, "He stopped being one the moment he walked out."

On the way to the hospital, my contractions came faster and faster.

Grace drove, cursing Samuel the whole time and calling the maternity ward at the same time. At a red light, she glanced at me in the rearview mirror, her voice tight with worry. "Laura, hang in there. We're almost there."

I leaned back in the passenger seat, sweat streaming down my forehead, my hand clutching the seatbelt in a death grip.

Suddenly, my phone lit up.

It was an Instagram notification.

I tapped it and saw that Julia had just posted a photo.

In the picture was a cup of hot cocoa, and a man's hand resting on the edge of the table. I recognized the watch on his wrist. I had given it to Samuel for his birthday last year.

Just one line of text underneath.

[Good thing you made it in time.]

I stared at those words, feeling like shards of glass were lodged in my throat.

Grace glanced over, almost ran a red light in anger. "She did that on purpose, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

I flipped my phone over and closed my eyes.

"Great. Guess I don't have to cover for him anymore."

By the time we got to the hospital, I could barely stand.

A nurse brought a wheelchair and asked where my husband was.

I was breathing hard, my fingers icy cold. "On the way."

I lied.

Because at that moment, I didn't want a stranger to see how broken I really was.

But when they wheeled me into the delivery room, my contractions getting closer and closer, a doctor came with a consent form. She asked again, "Where's your husband? Who will sign?"

I stared up at the ceiling and suddenly felt like laughing.

Husband?

The guy who swore he'd be back in two hours was probably holed up in some hotel right now, dabbing tears off the face of his ex who'd just been dumped.

I reached out with my trembling hand and took the paperwork.

"I'll sign it myself."

The doctor paused, surprised. "Where's your husband?"

"He's dead."

The moment I said those two words, the tears finally fell.

I wasn't crying to get anyone's attention.

But because I suddenly realized how ridiculous I was.

Three years of marriage. Seven months of trying for a baby. Nine months of pregnancy.

And it wasn't until I was about to walk into the delivery room that I finally understood, the family I thought I had was never anything more than me fighting alone, from start to finish.