Chapter 1

The day I found out I was pregnant, the boy I'd loved on and off for ten years finally kicked me to the curb.

He wasted no time moving on, announcing his engagement to someone else almost immediately.

I became the laughingstock of our social circle, and during the darkest stretch, it was Samuel Pierce who stood by me.

Everyone said, "If Lily's simp, then Samuel's the real ride-or-die, rushing in to help raise someone else's kid."

"It's always only the second lead finally gets his chance when the main guy ditches the girl."

Samuel took all the heat for me and shielded me, as he always had.

The day I said yes to his proposal, that tall, handsome man teared up for the first time. "Lily, I swear I'll make you happy."

But on our wedding day, I got thrown seven years into the future.

Thirty-five-year-old Samuel sounded ice-cold, staring at me like he was out of patience. "Go on—what will it take for you to agree to the divorce?"

*****

"I do," I blurted out, following the officiant's cue on instinct before I even knew what was happening.

It took me a few seconds to realize something was off.

There were no cheers, no guests, no roar of excitement. And there was no reply from Samuel.

The man who was looking at me with teary eyes at our wedding just a moment ago now stared back at me with nothing but indifference.

When Samuel heard my answer, the tension in his frown eased a little. "Since you agree..."

"Divorce?" I finally caught up. "Why?"

The air went dead silent for a few seconds.

Samuel's voice dropped, flat and heavy. "Lily, can you stop going back on your word over and over? Is there really any point in dragging this out? Do you really have to make a scene before you're satisfied?"

His cold tone and impatient expression made my head spin.

Samuel had never looked at me like this.

Before our wedding, he had proposed four times.

I turned him down the first three—I was scared, scared he'd end up hurting me too.

But he kept telling me, again and again, "Lily, I'm not leaving you. I'll cling to you for the rest of my life. Please, don't abandon me. Just give me a chance, okay?"

He even had my name tattooed over his heart.

I stared at his face in a daze, unable to handle how fast everything had flipped.

Samuel tossed the papers onto the table, impatience written all over him. "Think it over and contact me directly. I'll give you one month at most. After that, we'll just go through the legal process."

I numbly lowered my head, and the bold black title on the cover practically stabbed my eyes: [Divorce Agreement.]

Samuel had already signed it—the handwriting I knew like the back of my hand was still fresh in my mind.

He knew I loved old-fashioned, handwritten vows, so he wrote ours himself when we got engaged.

And now that same signature sat on a plain sheet of paper, cold and final.

I pinched myself hard. It hurt, but it didn't wake me from this nightmare.

The sharp edge of the paper sliced my finger, and a drop of blood smeared onto the divorce agreement—just like the ribbon the officiant had wrapped around our joined hands at the wedding.

My phone buzzed, yanking me back.

The screen showed the year 2025—seven years after our wedding.

Jack texted: [Mr. Pierce drove toward Riverside Park. Looks like he's heading to the Westside District.]

I scrolled up. It was full of Samuel's schedules and photos of the woman who lived in the Westside District.

The chat history showed that I'd hired this private investigator, Jack Watts, three months ago, and that a week ago I'd told him to look into this woman's background. I had been getting ready to sit down and hash things out.

Jack texted: [Her name is Evelyn Winters, 27 years old, from Brookville.]

[She had started as an intern at Mr. Pierce's company three years ago, then moved straight into an assistant role.]

[Contact info... But Ms. Johnson, it may not be wise to talk to her directly right now.]

He had probably seen enough messy love triangles to know better. He warned me to think twice.

I never made that call.

My thumb moved on its own, scrolling through those intimate photos and zooming in again and again. My eyes stung, and tears blurred the whole screen.

Before I could dial her number, it popped up first.

"You took your sweet time." Evelyn's voice was light, smug, and full of triumph. "Didn't you want to see me?"

*****

The moment I saw Evelyn, I froze in place, my steps suddenly heavy.

She looked even more like me in person than in the photos—just younger.

She had chosen the café, and it was clear she was a regular.

A server hurried over. "You are back again. Same order as last time?"

"Make it milk," Evelyn said, arching an eyebrow. "I'm pregnant. The doctor told me to cut down on caffeine."

She caught sight of my pale knuckles and seemed to realize what she'd just said.

"Oops, didn't mean to hit a sore spot," she said lightly. "I'm a blunt person, so I might as well lay it out. What man doesn't dream of having his own child? If you can't give him one, why shouldn't someone else?"

I stared blankly at her abdomen, and something sharp twisted in my chest.

Seven years ago, I lost my first child, and after that, I fell seriously ill. The doctor told me it would be hard for me to conceive again.

Samuel never said a word to pressure me, but I knew he loved kids.

So I had been seeing doctors behind his back, taking medicine nonstop.

My mother would tear up every time, saying, "You wouldn't even take cough syrup when you were little."

It was pure misery. Half the time, I drank the medicine only to throw it up again. But I still forced it down, no matter how bitter it tasted.

I wanted a child with Samuel so badly. Everyone said he was the type who'd end up being a great girl dad.

And yet, seven years had gone by, and we still hadn't had a baby.