It was what he said when we got married.
He didn’t even glance at the divorce papers before storming out.
Not long after he left, a strange number popped up on my phone:
“You’re Sophia Summers, right?
“You must have seen it—he’s been collecting my photos since I was still in school.
“Ethan loves me, not you. If you don’t step aside, Ethan will make you regret it!”
The girl’s voice carried an innocence and boldness untouched by the world.
Or perhaps it was simply that Ethan had protected her too well.
Before I could respond, she sent over a dozen photos.
Her waist-to-hip ratio was perfect, a chain draped elegantly across her waist.
The large hand resting there sometimes forgot to remove the wedding band that belonged to me.
Until her belly began to swell, only then was the chain finally taken off.
“Sophia, Ethan has been married to you for three years and never let you bear his child. But he’s allowed me to carry his seed.
“Don’t you understand? Is clinging on still meaningful?
“I’m telling you, if you don’t step down, I’ll move into your home myself. Let’s see then—whose side will Ethan choose, yours or mine?”