Humiliated and trembling, I ran to the bathroom and vomited until I retched. I clutched my abdomen and thought of the twins growing inside me, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to do. These were the children I’d waited eight years for. Because of my PCOS, getting pregnant was harder for me than for most women. But Ethan’s mother had made it clear over and over that if I couldn’t have a child, I didn’t belong in their family.
So, for his sake, I had seen specialist after specialist and taken bitter medicines. Finally, my perseverance paid off, and I was pregnant. When the doctor told me it was twins, I was over the moon. But that joy lasted only an hour before Ethan crushed it.
I fixed my face, wiped my swollen eyes, and waited outside the bar for a ride. Then I saw him come out, walking fast, eyes already locked on someone.
Seeing that, I canceled my ride with my heart racing, thinking maybe the conversation I’d overheard had been a cruel joke. Maybe he still loved me and would come running to me now.
I took the pregnancy test from my bag and hurried toward him. “Honey!” I called.
But he didn’t hear. His attention was on a small-waisted, high-hipped girl who had just appeared.