Chapter 2
A year after we moved to Riverside City, Cassie started dating this much older guy—at least ten years her senior.
She bragged he was some eligible bachelor, loaded, with a family worth hundreds of millions.
I'd actually met him myself.
Honestly, he didn't seem rich at all. What I saw was someone shifty—calculating eyes, full of schemes.
After just a few months, Cassie married him without telling her family. They didn't even have a wedding.
From then on, life became hell—not just for her, but for us too.
After they got married, it was constant chaos—huge fights every other day, petty arguments in between.
Cassie always complained her husband was a cheapskate who refused to give her spending money.
He called her a shopaholic who only knew how to burn through cash.
Whenever they fought, Cassie came straight to our place to vent.
I lost count of how many times Andrew and I fought about her drama.
Three months ago, Cassie showed up at our door, heavily pregnant.
"Andy, he's a monster! I'm almost seven months pregnant and he still hit me..." She sobbed, face swollen and red.
As it turned out, her husband had been cheating with his secretary during her pregnancy. When Cassie discovered the affair, she stormed into his office and made a public scene.
He got so angry that he hit her.
Cassie didn't tell her parents—afraid it would break their hearts.
With nowhere else to go, she poured everything out to Andrew.
Andrew clenched his fists, face dark with fury. He looked ready to storm out and beat the guy up.
But Cassie grabbed him, sobbing and begging him not to.
He let her stay for over a week. She only went back after her husband apologized and bought her a designer bag worth 30 thousand dollars.
By then, I was three months pregnant.
That was when I seriously considered divorce. I had no strength left to maintain such a sick marriage.
As I agonized over whether to terminate the pregnancy, Andrew came to me, making a desperate plea and swearing on his life that nothing like that would ever occur again.
He said he only helped Cassie because they'd known each other since childhood and their families were practically bound together. He couldn't just stand by while his "little sister" was in an abusive marriage.
I remembered every word of that promise.
But what good were promises?
The moment Cassie called, none of it mattered. He abandoned me—six months pregnant—on a dark, empty highway.
Five minutes ago, Andrew got a call from Cassie.
Her voice came through weak and shaky.
"Andy, I'm scared... My water just broke. The doctor says the baby could come any minute. It hurts so much—what do I do?
"What if something goes wrong during labor? Am I going to die?
"Andy, I wish you were here..."
Andrew had the call on speaker since he was driving.
I stared at the dashboard, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
She actually asked him what she should do?
She was already at the hospital with doctors. What did she expect Andrew to do? Was he supposed to deliver the baby himself?
Besides, hospitals these days were equipped for this. Unless she had serious complications, she'd be fine.
But the second Andrew heard her voice, his whole body tensed. The car even swerved left.
He quickly straightened the wheel and reassured her. "Cassie, don't be scared. I'm coming back right now. And don't say things like that—quick, touch wood.
"Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you."
The moment he hung up, his mind was made up. I was supposed to get to his parents' place on my own while he raced to the hospital for Cassie.
"What, is her husband dead?" I snapped. "Why do you always have to play hero for her?"
His voice turned cold. "Cassie's like my little sister. She's having her baby early—there's no way I'm leaving her now."
I could barely contain myself. "Andrew, wake up! Two weeks early isn't even premature. If you go to her right now, we're done. Divorce. I mean it."
But five minutes later, he dragged me out of the car anyway.
We were on a dark, empty highway—no streetlights, nothing but miles of darkness. Cars roared past occasionally, their sound echoing through the silence.
The wind cut right through me. Between the cold and the fear, I couldn't stop shivering.
I had no choice but to keep walking, hoping to spot even a flicker of light ahead—anywhere I could flag down a ride.
About ten minutes in, my belly tightened. Sharp cramps hit me with every step.
Please, don't let anything happen to my baby.
I stopped, forcing myself to breathe deeply, trying to calm down even though I felt like I was falling apart.
Then I heard a motorcycle roaring up behind me.
I spun around, heart pounding.
Some lunatic was swerving all over the road, heading straight for me at full speed.
I didn't have time to move. The motorcycle slammed into me, sending me flying into the dry weeds on the roadside.
The pain hit all at once—sharp and overwhelming.
The motorcycle didn't even stop. It wobbled and disappeared into the darkness.
Through excruciating pain, I managed to call 911.
I had no idea where I was, but thankfully, they tracked my phone and sent help.
While waiting, I called Andrew over and over. A hundred times, maybe. He didn't answer once. Not a single text back. Nothing.
I felt myself fading. I couldn't fight it anymore.
Because I'd blacked out in the weeds off the roadside, the paramedics couldn't find me right away—even when they arrived, I was invisible in the shadows.