I bolted upright and ran upstairs. Like a woman possessed, I began destroying every trace of him. The gifts he’d given me? Smashed. The wedding photos on the wall? Shattered. The love letters he wrote? Torn to shreds.
My rampage continued until I stumbled upon his pregnancy preparation diary. It sat innocently on his desk, its pages filled with meticulous notes.
I flipped through it, my hands trembling. There were detailed records of every stage of my IVF treatments—my hormone levels, my diet, even my mental state. His careful handwriting filled every page, his concern seemingly genuine.
The sight of it only deepened the gaping hole in my chest. Was any of this real? I wondered. How could a man act so convincingly? To promise me the world, only to shatter it while holding someone else in his arms?
The diary slipped from my hands as I sank to the floor, curling into myself. My tears fell freely, soaking the fabric of my clothes. I had nothing left—no strength, no hope. Just a hollow shell of the woman I used to be.
As I sat there, drowning in despair, a single thought emerged from the chaos in my mind: Five more days. Just five more days and I’ll be gone forever.
The countdown had begun.
The hum of my phone broke the silence. It was a text from Harry.
“Honey, I’m sorry. The company has an emergency and I have to work overtime. I can’t accompany you today, but wait for me. I’ll come back soon.”
Lies. The words were as hollow as the promises that had once made me believe in forever.
Almost immediately, another message arrived—this one from Evelyn. Her words were sharp, dripping with malice.
“Big sister, stop flattering yourself. Do you really think he’ll come back for you? He doesn’t love you anymore.” She continued, “You’re thirty-five. Old. Fat. Barren. Why don’t you just pack up and leave? He’s mine now. All I have to do is crook my finger and he’s at my feet.”
Attached were photos—her and Harry on a shopping spree. They stood at the counter, his hand brushing hers as he purchased an evening gown. The same gown I had admired months ago but deemed too extravagant. For her, he threw down ten million without hesitation.
I stared at the images, numb, my heart a fortress of scar tissue. Ignoring her provocations, I turned away, bandaging my hands from the wounds I had inflicted on myself in my grief.