Chapter 1

Two days before my due date, my husband, Spencer Cole, pushed me out of the car on the way to the hospital.

He was in a frantic rush to take his first love to Fjordland to see the northern lights.

I called him, begging him to come back and take me to the hospital.

"I'm not your personal driver," he said. "Just call a taxi."

I kept pleading. He snapped, "I'm not a doctor either. If your stomach hurts, go see one." Then he hung up.

After that day, I vanished from Spencer's world completely.

When I ran into him again, his eyes were red. "Mia, I know I was wrong. Hit me, curse me—whatever you want. Just come back to me with our child. I promise—"

I cut him off with a smile. "Sir, do we know each other?"

*****

"Spencer, did we pack everything in the hospital bag?" I asked, gently rubbing my belly with a smile as I glanced over at Spencer as he drove.

Before he could answer, his phone rang.

"Spencer, today marks 1,888 days since we first met. I just booked us tickets to Fjordland.

"Let's go see the northern lights together, okay?"

A gentle female voice came through the car's Bluetooth.

I instantly recognized it. It was his first love, Lily Shaw.

Spencer's expression had been blank just a moment ago. But the second he heard her voice, his face lit up with a happy smile.

"Sure, I'll be there soon," he replied.

With that, he pulled over to the side of the road.

"Get out. I'm heading to the airport," he said.

With tears streaming down my face, I begged, "Spencer, please don't go."

"I'm just taking her to see the Northern Lights. Why are you acting like it's the end of the world?" he scoffed.

Just then, a sharp pain shot through my belly.

"Spencer, I'm having contractions. Can you please take me to the hospital first?" I pleaded.

Annoyed, he practically shoved me out of the car.

"Quit faking it!" he barked.

I stood on the side of the road, clutching my belly, watching him floor the gas without a single look back. He was racing off to pick up his first love.

I stood there like a total fool, completely lost and helpless, not knowing what to do next.

Only now did I realize—no matter what I did as his wife, I could never compete with the hold Lily had on him.

God, I really was an idiot.

I endured the pain and lowered myself onto a bench at the side of the road. Then I felt a warm rush between my thighs.

I was bleeding.

I wanted to call for help, but people streamed past without a single person noticing me.

An old man pushing a cleaning cart walked by, glanced at the blood on my skirt, and walked off with a look of disgust.

I tried to scream for help, but my throat felt like it was being squeezed shut—no sound came out.

I scrolled through my contacts again and again, but realized I had no one to call.

My mom had passed away years ago, and my dad?

He'd already started a new family and we hadn't spoken in over a decade.

Spencer's mom was always nice to me.

But how was I supposed to tell her, "Spencer left me stranded on the side of the road to run off with another woman and watch the Northern Lights"?

With the last bit of hope left in me, I dialed Spencer's number.

"Spencer, I think the baby's coming..." I managed to choke out.

"I'm about to board. Don't bother me," he said coldly, then hung up.

The cold beeping in my ear crushed whatever hope I had left for him.

In the end, I called Wendy Clarke.

Wendy's been my bestie since middle school—the only one who knows everything about me.

Including the fact that I'd been in love with Spencer since I was sixteen.

The phone rang for what felt like forever—so long that I was sure she wouldn't pick up. But then, finally, she answered.

"Mia? Why are you calling me right now? I'm in a meeting..." Wendy said.

I cut her off.

"Wendy, I'm having the bloody show. I'm on a bench at the intersection of Fairview Road. Can you come get me?" I blurted out.

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end, then I heard the sound of a chair crashing to the floor.

"Wait, what? Stay right there, I'm coming!

"Twenty minutes—no, fifteen! Don't move, seriously, don't move!"

Then she hung up.

I gripped my phone, tears rolling down my cheeks once more.

It wasn't fear—it was the feeling of being truly moved.

So there was still someone in this world who would panic for me.

Fifteen minutes later, Wendy's car pulled up in front of me.

The moment she saw me, her face went ghostly pale.

"Mia!" she cried out.

She dashed over and, in a panic, tried to help me up, her hands shaking and her voice trembling uncontrollably.

"Don't be scared, I'm taking you to the nearest hospital right now," she comforted.

I glanced at her and let out a shaky laugh.

"Wendy, seriously, don't cry—I'm still kicking," I joked.