Chapter 2

"Well, isn't this a surprise, Ms. Smith."

Joanna Quinn spotted me before Ethan did.

She was wearing a loose maternity dress, holding a warm cup of milk, her face soft with the kind of glow that only comes from being truly loved.

My best friend Lily followed her gaze and her expression darkened instantly.

"Ethan, when exactly did you sneak off and become someone else's personal support system behind our girl Mia's back?"

Ethan had been crouched down, gently dabbing the cold sweat from Joanna's forehead. He paused at the sound of Lily's voice and looked up.

The moment he saw me, a flash of shock crossed his eyes. His brow tightened — barely visible, but I caught it.

As if my being there had interrupted something precious he'd carefully put together.

"Joanna's fiancé is abroad and couldn't make it. She would've been here alone. I just came as a friend, to keep her company for a bit."

As he said it, he reached over and took the empty cup from Joanna's hand with practiced ease, passing it off to a nearby staff member.

His tone was completely flat. Like he was explaining away something trivial.

But I kept my eyes locked on the veins standing out on the back of his hand — still raised from the level-ten contraction simulation he'd just put himself through.

"Just keeping her company?" I stepped forward. My voice was steady in a way that surprised even me. "Keeping her company means taking a level-ten contraction for her? Standing up in front of everyone and letting them call you her husband?"

Ethan's brow furrowed deeper. That familiar edge of irritation crept into his voice.

"Mia, can you stop being so sensitive? Joanna is pregnant — her emotions are already unstable. I just didn't want her to feel embarrassed in front of everyone."

There it was again.

Stop being sensitive. Stop overthinking. Stop making a scene.

Three months ago, I was curled up in the hallway outside the maternity ward at St. Mary's Medical Center, shaking so hard I could barely breathe.

I called him ten times.

From hopeful, all the way to numb.

What I got back was a single cold text on Snapchat:

[I told you — the company's IPO is at a critical stage. Don't interrupt me.]

[If the baby's gone, it's gone.]

That day, the doctor stood in front of me with a surgical consent form, looking at my pale face with the kind of eyes that meant he'd seen this before.

"No family member coming? General anesthesia carries risk when the patient signs alone."

I bit down on my already-bleeding lip and signed my name, one stroke at a time.

I walked into that operating room alone. I came out of it alone. I woke up to an empty room and lay there, alone.

He never once asked if I was okay.

And now — now he was willing to strap himself into that chair and endure pain most people can't handle, all so another woman wouldn't feel embarrassed.

Joanna reached over and gently tugged at the hem of Ethan's jacket. Her eyes went red in seconds, her voice small and shaky:

"Mia, please don't blame Ethan. It's my fault. I shouldn't have let myself lean on him like this. If it bothers you, I'll never contact him again, I promise..."

Lily let out a sharp laugh that had nothing funny in it. She pointed straight at Joanna.

"You're lonely and pregnant, go find your fiancé who's supposedly abroad! What kind of person goes and borrows someone else's boyfriend to play house with? What is wrong with you?"

Joanna's tears spilled over, one after another, and she swayed like she might actually fall.

Ethan stepped forward almost before she'd started leaning, putting himself squarely between her and the world.

He turned to Lily, and his eyes went cold. "Lily, watch your mouth. Joanna isn't well. She can't handle this right now."

I stared at his arm — that arm positioned in front of her like a shield — and felt something twist in my stomach.

Ridiculous. The whole thing was ridiculous.

A staff member chose that moment to walk over, holding a framed certificate and looking visibly uncomfortable.

"Um... Ms. Quinn? This is your commemorative completion certificate — yours and your... partner's. Please hold onto it."

The certificate had two names printed on it in clean, official lettering: Joanna Quinn. Ethan Cole.

Ethan didn't say a word to correct it. He took the certificate, folded it carefully, and slid it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Then he turned to me. His tone softened just slightly — the way someone softens their voice when they think they're being generous.

"Mia, once the event's over, I'll come home and explain everything tonight. Go with Lily for now. Don’t make a big deal out of this."

Don’t make a big deal out of this.

In his eyes, the simple fact of me standing in front of him was already "making something bigger."

I didn't cry. I didn't do what I'd done so many times over the past seven years — stand there with red eyes, waiting for him to come around and soften.

I just looked at him. Then I let one corner of my mouth pull into the faintest, coldest smile.

"Sure. You two enjoy the rest of it."

I turned and walked away without hesitating.

Ethan stood there, frozen.

He clearly hadn't expected me to let it go that easily. For seven years, I was always the one who fell apart over the smallest sign of his coldness.

But I didn't have anything left to fall apart with.

In that moment, something in me finally came fully awake.

It wasn't that he didn't know how to be a good partner.

He just never wanted to be one. Not for me.