Chapter 3
Yeah, I'm pregnant. Two months along.
Only Sophie knows.
Michael doesn't have a clue.
Back then, we met back in our senior year of high school.
He'd just transferred from out of town and ended up sitting right next to me.
He was this tall, skinny guy, quiet, kept to himself, but totally aced all his classes, especially anything science-related.
At first, we barely talked.
Then, during a monthly math test, we both tackled the last big question the same way, but ended up with different answers.
When we compared, I got it right and he didn't. He hesitated for ages before finally coming over to talk through the problem with me.
After that, we started studying together, grabbing lunch as a pair, and walking home side by side.
After the college entrance exams, he majored in clinical medicine at Briarton University, while I chose biology in the neighboring department.
During those four years, we went from a long-distance thing to being in the same city, and he came to see me every single weekend.
The day he confessed, it was pouring rain. We were both standing under the awning outside the cafeteria.
He handed me an umbrella. "Rachel, I want to be with you," he said.
I took the umbrella.
"Okay," I replied.
That was it.
After that, he went on to grad school, got his PhD, did his residency, and eventually landed a job at a top hospital. Meanwhile, I didn't bother with more school after undergrad.
I landed a government gig at a community health center, worked the clinic for two years, but got bored and quit. Then I started a small-time business selling medical equipment.
He never really paid much attention to the details of my job.
But every time he came home late, saw the lights still on and dinner kept warm for him, he'd wrap his arms around me and say, "Thanks for waiting up."
I was there for him through everything, from his days as a resident, to associate chief, and all the way up to chief.
Those years were rough on him. Whenever he had a promotion review coming up, he'd be up all night, unable to sleep. I'd sit with him, helping him prep his presentations and organize his case files.
One time, his project got rejected. He came home, didn't say a word, and sat on the couch.
I poured him a glass of water, set it down beside him, and sat across from him.
"Just start over. That direction was way too hard, pick a new angle," I said.
He looked up at me. "You know about this stuff?" he asked.
"I've picked up a thing or two," I said.
That night, I helped him sort things out. The next day, he showed his new plan to his advisor, and his advisor signed off right away.
The year he got promoted to chief, he was as happy as a kid on Christmas morning.
When he got home, he scooped me up and spun me around twice.
"Rachel, the best days are still ahead," he said.
"Mm, I trust you," I replied.
I really did. For six whole years.
Until Claire entered the picture.
The day we finished the divorce paperwork, the sun was blazing outside the Briarton city hall.
He glanced at the divorce decree, then slipped it into his briefcase.
"Rachel, don't hold a grudge against me. Claire deserves a real commitment from me," he said.
Claire was waiting by the parking lot.
She had on a white dress, her long hair down, head lowered.
When she saw us come out, she glanced at me for a moment, then quickly looked away, like she was totally innocent.
Michael noticed how uneasy she was and gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring pat.
"Don't worry, it's all over now," he said.
Claire whispered, "Michael, will your wife... I mean, Ms. Lane, blame me?"
Guess she didn't waste any time switching from "your wife" to "Ms. Lane." That was fast, and cold.
I ignored her.
Michael spoke up again. "Rachel, if you ever need anything, you can always call me."
Claire's expression flickered for a moment.
I waved the divorce decree in my hand. "I'll be fine. Even if something comes up, I won't be asking you for help,"
I gave Claire a look.
"He's got nothing left to his name now. You sure you still want him?" I asked.
Claire tightened her grip on Michael's arm and lifted her chin. "I'm with Michael, not for the money."
"Good for you," I said.
I turned and walked away without any glance for them.