[ESTELLE]
From the very beginning, Damien’s love had felt like sothing borrowed. He had looked at like I was a surprise—beautiful, maybe, but unexpected.
A detour he hadn’t planned to take. I’d mistaken his fascination for sothing deeper, clung to every complint like it was proof that I mattered. That I belonged beside him.
But Kelsey? Kelsey had never needed to earn his love.
She was the plan.
The childhood friend. The first love. The girl who had seen him before the fa, before the weight of a royal na twisted his smile. She had history with him—roots that ran deep and tangled in all the right places. ? I was an ornant. Temporary. Replaceable.
I curled my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly, trying to anchor myself to sothing solid. I couldn’t cry. No. My tears were stuck sowhere in my throat, like my body was saving them for later, when the silence was heavier and the loneliness more unbearable.
Why had I ever thought I had a chance?
He had never made promises. Not really. But I had filled in the blanks. Painted a future with him using every brushstroke of his kindness, every mont he stayed just a little too long, every ti his fingers traced lazy circles on my skin like he was mapping a place he wanted to stay.
But love? Love had never been in the blueprint.
Just desire.
Just comfort.
Just , clinging to the idea that maybe, if I stayed long enough, he’d start to see the way I saw him.
I stood eventually, stripped off my dress, and pulled on one of his hoodies hanging by the bathroom door. It still slled like him—like that stupid cologne I’d once secretly spritzed onto my pillow just to pretend he was beside .
How pathetic.
I padded into the kitchen and turned on the espresso machine, even though it hated . It blinked at like it knew I was emotionally unstable and not to be trusted with caffeine.
"Join the club," I muttered.
I sat at the counter with my untouched coffee and stared into the dark liquid like it held so kind of answer. What now? What was I supposed to do? Fight for him? Beg for scraps?
No. I still had so pride left. Shattered pride, maybe, but it was sothing.
Still . . . even as I told myself I needed to walk away, that I deserved better than being his backup plan, I couldn’t help the ache that blood in my chest. The ache of losing soone who was never really mine—but who I had loved anyway. Foolishly. Completely.
Because no matter how much I hated her in that mont . . . Kelsey didn’t steal Damien from .
She just took back what had always been hers.
And I—I was just the girl left in the shadows, pretending that a few stolen monts could compare to a lifeti of belonging.
The apartnt was too quiet.
My mind too loud.
And my heart . . . God, my heart wouldn’t shut up. Beating like it still believed in a future that was no longer possible.
I didn’t know what my next move was.
All I knew was that I needed to feel sothing other than this hollow ache in my chest. Maybe tomorrow I’d co up with a plan. Maybe tomorrow I’d think about how to move on, how to rebuild.
But tonight?
Tonight I was going to fall apart in private—curled up in his hoodie, drinking bad coffee, and pretending like I wasn’t completely and irrevocably in love with a man who would never look at the way he looked at her.
And maybe that was the real tragedy.
Not that he didn’t love back.
But that for one fleeting mont, I thought he did.
=== ===
A week had passed.
Seven slow, aching days, and I still didn’t know what to do with my life.
Part of wanted—desperately—to stay. To hold onto whatever faint thread of hope was left. Because deep in my mind, deeper still in my stubborn heart, I believed Damien was my soulmate. The one I’d always been waiting for, even before I knew what love was supposed to feel like.
But hope without proof was a dangerous thing.
There had been no sign of Damien. No calls. No ssages. Not even a shadow passing by the apartnt to remind he still cared. I was left floating in a strange, inescapable limbo—caught between love and heartbreak, mory and silence.
And sowhere in that silence, I started noticing the signs.
I’d been brushing them off for days. Maybe longer. The nausea, the headaches, the way my body felt just a little . . . off. I told myself it was stress. Fatigue. Hormonal imbalance. Anything, anything but the truth I didn’t want to face.
Because if I said it out loud—if I knew—then it would be real.
But when my period didn’t co . . . I knew.
I waited a few more days, pretending to be brave, but inside, I was crumbling. Then finally, I gathered the courage and went to the doctor. I sat there in a cold white room, clutching the edge of the sterile paper sheet, trying to pretend I was calm when my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
The confirmation ca in a soft, matter-of-fact voice: I was pregnant.
The world stopped spinning for a mont. Everything—every noise, every thought—went quiet except for the sound of my own heartbeat, thundering in my ears.
Pregnant. With Damien’s child.
I pressed my hand gently to my stomach, and I knew. Even before the doctor explained that it would take another three or four months to determine the gender—I already knew.
"She’s a girl," I whispered.
The doctor smiled politely, as if humoring . "It’s still early. We won’t know for sure until—"
"No," I said, more certain than I’d ever been about anything in my life. "She’s a girl. I can feel it."
And in that mont, everything changed.
All the confusion, all the heartbreak and questions, lted into sothing sharper. Clearer.
A decision.
I was done waiting. Done chasing shadows and clinging to the broken pieces of a relationship that had long since shattered. Damien had made his choice—even if it was without words. He’d chosen Kelsey. Chosen silence. And maybe he had his reasons. Maybe there were a hundred things I didn’t understand.
But this . . . this wasn’t just about anymore.
There was a heartbeat inside now. A new life. A future I had the power to shape, even if I had to do it alone.
So, I made up my mind.
I was going back to New York.
Back to the place where I called ho. Back to the chaos and noise and lights. But this ti, I wasn’t returning as the sa girl who’d left. I was no longer soone waiting to be chosen. I was choosing myself—and my daughter.
I would start over. Build sothing new from the ruins. Not because it was easy—but because I had to.
Because love, real love, doesn’t abandon you in silence.
And even if Damien never ca back . . . even if he never looked for again, I would be okay. We would be okay.
I’d raise her with strength, with laughter, with all the love I had in . She would never feel unwanted. Never wonder if she was enough. And she would definitely never love a guy that would make her second option.
And as I stepped out of the clinic, the wind sharp against my skin, I wrapped my coat tightly around . Not to protect myself—but to shield her. My girl. My future.
Damien might never know.
But I did.
This was no longer a story about chasing love.
It was about becoming sothing greater.
A mother.
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