My Husband’s Biggest Regret Was Choosing His First Love

“Are you certain you want to terminate the pregnancy?” The doctor’s voice came through the phone, steady but laced with disbelief. “Miranda, the baby is already five months along. And it’s a miracle child. You know your condition better than anyone—your inverted uterus, the PCOS… conceiving wasn’t even supposed to be possible. You only discovered you were pregnant last week.”

Her words rang inside my head, pounding against my chest like a relentless echo. A miracle baby. My miracle baby.

I squeezed my eyes shut as my throat tightened painfully. “Yes,” I murmured, my voice shaking even though the decision had already been made. “Please… arrange everything. I’ll come in five days. I just need a little time to take care of a few things first.”

Before she could respond—before another word of persuasion could weaken my resolve—I ended the call.

The quiet that followed felt suffocating. I gripped the phone so tightly my fingers began to ache, my breathing coming out in uneven, ragged bursts.

For as long as I could remember, I had dreamed of having a child with Derek. It was something I’d always wanted. If this pregnancy had happened a few months earlier—back when I still believed he married me out of love—I would have been overjoyed.

But now, the very thought left a hollow ache inside me.

Because just last week, everything I believed about my husband had collapsed.

I had been so excited that day. I could still picture myself holding the pregnancy test, staring at the faint double lines as happiness surged through me. My heart had felt so light, so full.

I wanted to surprise him—do something meaningful for our anniversary.

My plan was simple but special. I would leave the pregnancy test in Derek’s office, hidden among the things he loved most. Maybe inside one of his work folders. Or even better, tucked between the pages of the book he read every night before bed.

I had imagined the moment over and over again.

Derek would open the book, casually flipping through the pages, when the test would slip out. His eyes would widen in shock. I would walk in just then, laughing through tears while he pulled me into a tight embrace. We would talk excitedly about baby names, decorating the nursery, and the life waiting for us ahead.

But when I opened that book and began flipping through its pages, something unexpected fell out.

Not the pregnancy test.

A photograph.

It drifted to the floor slowly, landing face up like some cruel joke.

The picture showed Derek standing beside a woman who looked almost identical to me. My breath caught as I bent down to pick it up, my fingers trembling.

Her face… it was nearly the same as mine. Anyone looking at us would think we were twins.

And written beneath the photo, in Derek’s unmistakable handwriting, were the words that shattered my heart.

I love you, Bianca. Forever and always. Only you.

My vision blurred as I stared at the message. Bianca.

The name felt like a blade slicing through me. Derek had mentioned her before, though rarely. During those few moments when he let his guard down, he once told me Bianca had been his first love—his whole world—but that she had left him long ago and he had already moved on.

I believed him.

I thought she was nothing more than a memory he had buried in the past.

But then what was this? Why was this photograph—this confession of everlasting love—hidden inside the book he read every single night?

My legs felt unsteady as I made my way to his closet, desperate for answers I wasn’t sure I wanted to find.

The moment I opened it, my heart nearly stopped.

Boxes.

Dozens of them, wrapped neatly and stacked carefully along the shelf. Each one had a small tag with a date written on it. Every single one untouched.

Gifts meant for Bianca.

I stood there frozen, my mind unable to process what I was seeing.

Then, as if fate had decided my torment wasn’t enough, Derek canceled our anniversary party that very evening. No explanation. No apology. Just a short, indifferent message saying he couldn’t make it.

My chest felt like it was breaking apart.

Driven by desperation, I followed him that night. I kept my distance, hiding beneath a hat and mask as I trailed behind him through the city.

Eventually, I found him.

Not at the office. Not attending to work.

He was at a bar—laughing loudly, drinking with his friends like he didn’t have a care in the world.

I stayed hidden in the shadows, my heart hammering painfully as I listened.

One of his friends glanced at him and asked, “Should you really be here tonight? Isn’t it your wedding anniversary with Miranda?”

Derek let out a careless laugh.

“Why would I care about Miranda?” he said casually. “You guys already know the only reason I married her is because she looks like Bianca. The resemblance is so strong they could practically pass as twins.”

The words knocked the air from my lungs.

“When Bianca walked out on me, I couldn’t move on,” he continued, speaking as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “So when her father suggested the marriage, I agreed. Being with Miranda was the closest thing I could get to having Bianca back. For a while, it even felt like Bianca never left.”

My hands trembled violently as tears slipped down my cheeks.

Derek lifted his glass with a crooked smile. “But I just heard Bianca divorced her husband. Sooner or later, I’ll figure out how to get rid of Miranda. Once I secure those company shares from her father, I’ll send her away. She was never anything more than a substitute.”

Every word cut deeper than the last until I felt like I had been completely torn apart.

Lies. Deception. Betrayal.

Everything I believed about my marriage collapsed in that moment.

The memory shattered when the bedroom door suddenly opened.

Derek walked inside, his expression warm as if nothing in the world was wrong. He crossed the room quickly, his voice gentle.

“Babe,” he said softly as he reached for me. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen?”

His act. The loving mask he wore so perfectly.

Only now could I see through it.

He tried to wrap his arms around me, but I stepped back before he could touch me. My eyes immediately caught the smear of lipstick on the collar of his shirt. At the same time, a sweet unfamiliar perfume drifted toward me.

It wasn’t mine.

My stomach twisted in disgust.

“Don’t touch me,” I said coldly, my voice trembling with anger.

His brows knit together in confusion. “Babe… are you upset about the anniversary? I told you I had to—”

I didn’t let him finish.

With shaking hands, I ripped the wedding ring from my finger and threw it straight at him. It hit his chest with a dull sound before falling to the floor.

“I want a divorce,” I said, my voice echoing through the room, firm and unwavering. “Sign the papers. Now.”

“I want a divorce!” The words tore out of my throat, sharp and jagged, my voice breaking as if the sound itself hurt. “Sign the papers. Right now!”

For a moment, Derek only stared at me. Confusion flickered across his face as if he couldn’t quite process what I’d said. But slowly, that confusion faded. In its place came disbelief—and then a small, mocking smile that sent a chill down my spine.

“Baby, you’re overreacting again,” he said lightly, his voice smooth but dripping with quiet condescension. “Relax. Whatever you’re upset about, I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I held his gaze. “No,” I replied, steady despite the trembling in my hands. “I mean it this time. I want a divorce. I don’t love you anymore. I’m done.”

The smile on his face wavered for a second before irritation flashed in his eyes.

“What exactly do you want, Miranda?” he asked impatiently. “Just say it. A new car? Jewelry? Another vacation? I’ll buy you whatever you want—just stop talking nonsense.”

His words hit me harder than I expected.

Because once upon a time, that had been exactly how he calmed me down.

Whenever I was upset, Derek always had a way of smoothing things over. He’d arrive with extravagant gifts—huge bouquets of flowers, sparkling diamonds, plane tickets to places I had only ever dreamed about visiting. Then he’d pull me into his arms, whisper apologies against my hair, and promise that I was the only woman who mattered to him.

I remembered the night he stood me up for dinner. I had been furious and hurt, waiting for hours before finally going home alone. The next morning, I woke up to find a Cartier bracelet lying on my pillow, along with a small note written in his familiar handwriting.

Forgive me, my love. Dinner tonight—just the two of us.

And there was the time during our first year of marriage when I accused him of growing distant. Instead of arguing, he had driven me to the Biancach in the middle of the night. He built a bonfire himself, wrapping his jacket around my shoulders while the waves crashed nearby.

“Don’t ever doubt me,” he had whispered softly that night. “You’re my everything.”

Back then, I believed every word.

Back then, I thought those gestures meant he loved me.

But standing here now, looking at the man in front of me, I finally understood the truth.

Those weren’t acts of love.

They were distractions. Carefully wrapped lies hidden behind roses and expensive gifts. A way to silence the questions in my heart whenever I started to feel uneasy.

And the cruelest part was how much those moments had meant to me. How much of myself I had poured into this marriage because of them.

My chest tightened painfully as I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes.

“I don’t want anything from you, Derek,” I said quietly. “Not your gifts. Not your apologies. And definitely not your lies. I just want to be free.”

Something dark flickered in his gaze.

The warm, charming Derek that everyone admired seemed to vanish in an instant. In his place stood the colder version of him—the man people whispered about at business events. The one no one dared to cross.

I had only seen that side of him once before, when we first got married.

Back then, I believed I had softened him.

Now I knew better.

I had never been special to him.

I had only been convenient. A substitute. A fool.

His lips twisted into a harsh sneer.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” he said coldly. “You think you can just walk away from this marriage? Did you tell your father about this little idea of yours? Do you honestly think he would support you divorcing me? And where exactly would you go afterward?”

The mention of my father felt like a blow.

Derek had always been close to him. Eight years older than me, steady and dependable—the kind of man my father trusted with both his daughter and his business. When my father fell seriously ill, I agreed to marry Derek so someone strong could take over the company.

At the time, my heart belonged to someone else.

But I had walked away from that love for my father’s sake. Over the years, I forced myself to care for Derek. Eventually, I convinced myself that what I felt for him was real.

Now all I could see was betrayal.

His next words sliced straight through my thoughts.

“Do you really believe any man would want you after this?” he scoffed. “Once people know you used to be my wife?”

The cruelty in his voice stunned me.

I straightened slowly, even though my hands were shaking.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” I said firmly. “Just sign the divorce papers.”

Before he could reply, the phone on the desk suddenly rang.

My eyes drifted toward the screen—and my breath caught.

Bianca.

Her name glowed on the display like a curse I couldn’t escape.

Derek grabbed the phone immediately and pressed it to his ear. Even from where I stood, I could faintly hear the shaky sound of her voice.

“Please… help me,” she said weakly. “I can’t sleep. Please come here. I’m hurt.”

“Alright,” Derek replied instantly, his voice softening in a way I hadn’t heard directed at me in years. “Just relax. I’ll be there soon.”

When he ended the call, he turned toward me again, the warmth in his expression already gone.

“I have something important to deal with,” he said curtly. “We’ll talk about this later. And don’t ever bring up divorce again, Miranda. You belong to me.”

I stood there, frozen.

You belong to me.

The words echoed in my mind long after he left. Mine, he had said.

Why was he acting possessive when Bianca had already returned? What purpose did I still serve in his life?

The door shut behind him, leaving the room painfully quiet.

Slowly, I sat down on the edge of the bed. My hands trembled as I reached for my phone.

After a moment, I dialed my lawyer’s number.

“Prepare the divorce documents,” I said when he answered, my voice rough.

There was a brief pause.

“Mrs. Montoya… are you certain about this?” the lawyer asked carefully. “If you go through with it, you may walk away with nothing. Where will you go? And Mr. Montoya will never agree to it easily.”

“That’s none of your concern,” I replied quietly. “Just prepare the papers. Send them to me tomorrow.”

I ended the call before my emotions could break through.

Then, almost without thinking, my fingers dialed another number—one I hadn’t called in years.

The line rang twice.

He answered on the third.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end was deep and familiar.

I closed my eyes tightly.

“Luca… it’s me,” I whispered. “Miranda.”

Silence followed.

Then I heard him draw in a sharp breath.

“I know I hurt you before,” I rushed to say, the words spilling out in desperation. “But… do you still love me? If you do… I’m ready to marry you now. Please. Please help me leave this place.”

Another pause.

When Luca finally spoke again, his voice sounded shaken.

“Miranda? What’s going on?” he asked. “I thought you and Derek were happy. I thought everything was fine.”

Tears slid down my cheeks as I gripped the phone.

“He deceived me, Luca,” I said softly. “Everything about him was a lie. And I was stupid enough to hurt you for him.” My voice cracked as the confession spilled out. “But if there’s still a place for me in your life… please help me. I don’t know where else to go.”

The next morning, I woke up with a wave of nausea so strong it made my head spin. The room tilted as I rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before I started retching. My hands gripped the cold marble counter while my body shook, vomiting until my throat burned and my eyes watered.

When it finally stopped, I stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily.

My stomach still looked the same—flat and unremarkable. Because of my inverted uterus, there was no visible bump yet. Anyone looking at me would have no idea I was carrying a child.

But I knew.

The life inside me was real.

My hand trembled as I slowly placed it over my stomach. Tears slipped down my cheeks as my chest tightened painfully.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice rough and broken. “I’m so sorry, baby… In a few days, you’ll be gone.” My fingers curled slightly against my belly. “And it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I just… I can’t bring you into a world where your father—”

My voice cracked completely.

“—where your father betrayed me.”

I leaned my back against the bathroom wall, closing my eyes as another wave of dizziness washed over me. My body felt weak and drained.

Then I heard voices.

They were coming from the master bedroom.

Soft murmurs. A woman’s voice, uncertain and hesitant.

“But… what if she gets angry at me?”

A man answered immediately—calm, reassuring.

It was Derek.

“Relax,” he said lightly. “It’s fine. I can handle this myself. Why should we care about what she thinks?”

I froze near the bathroom doorway, my hand tightening around the edge of the sink. My heart began pounding violently as their conversation drifted through the halfopen door.

“She’s become so clingy lately,” Derek continued with clear annoyance. “Always crying about something, always demanding attention. She’s not the same woman she used to be. Honestly, I’m exhausted dealing with her moods. Don’t worry about Miranda. At this point she’s basically an empty shell.”

My stomach twisted painfully.

“She might find out,” the woman said softly. “I really don’t want to cause any problems between you two.”

Derek let out a quiet laugh, cold and dismissive.

“She’s too spineless to do anything,” he said. “She knows she’s lucky to have me. Without me, she’d be nothing.”

Each word felt like a blade sliding deeper into my chest.

My hands shook as I pushed the bedroom door open.

Derek turned toward the sound, clearly surprised. His eyes widened briefly when he saw me standing there, pale and shaking.

“Miranda…”

But the surprise disappeared almost instantly. His expression hardened, returning to that distant coldness.

“Why are you listening in on our conversation?” he asked sharply.

The accusation made my blood run cold.

“Listening in?” I repeated bitterly, wiping my mouth as I stepped fully into the room. My heart pounded violently. “This is our bedroom, Derek. So tell me—why is she here? There are plenty of other rooms in this house she could use.”

Bianca lowered her head slightly, biting her lip as if she felt guilty.

But Derek immediately stepped closer to her, one arm moving protectively behind her back.

“She needs a larger space,” he said casually, brushing off my concern like it meant nothing. “She’s claustrophobic. Those guest rooms are too small for her. She wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

My anger surged.

“No,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “I’m your wife. And I said no.”

Instead of guilt, irritation flashed across his face.

“Don’t be so heartless,” he replied impatiently. “She’s a close family friend. She just came out of an abusive marriage, Miranda. She’s traumatized. She can barely sleep at night.”

I stared at him, disbelief flooding through me.

“So your solution is to let her sleep in our bedroom?” I asked sharply. “To tuck her in and kiss her goodnight too?”

His jaw tightened.

For a second, something dangerous flickered in his eyes.

Then his hand moved.

The slap landed across my face with a sharp crack.

Pain exploded along my cheek as my head snapped sideways.

I gasped, stunned.

In all the years we had been together, Derek had never hit me before. I had always been the one he doted on—his “baby,” his “princess.”

And now, because of Bianca, I meant nothing.

Tears blurred my vision as I glared at him.

“If you let her stay in our room,” I said through clenched teeth, “then we’re getting a divorce!”

He laughed.

The sound was low and cruel.

“You can’t scare me with that,” he said mockingly. “You’re not actually going to do it.”

Then he turned back to Bianca as if I no longer existed.

“Just ignore her,” he said casually. “She’s throwing one of her tantrums again. She’ll calm down once I give her something nice.”

Bianca hesitated before walking toward me. Her expression softened, guilt flickering briefly across her face.

“I’m sorry if I’ve caused any trouble,” she said gently. “I really didn’t mean to upset you. Maybe… maybe we could try being friends. After all, we both loved him once.”

Her words cut straight through me.

Both loved him.

Before I could stop myself, I shoved her away. My hand struck her arm, and the impact echoed in the room.

She stumbled backward, nearly losing her balance.

“Miranda!” Derek snapped angrily.

His hands grabbed my shoulders and pushed me hard.

I staggered backward, my body slamming into the edge of the dresser.

A sickening jolt of pain shot through my stomach.

Warmth spread down my legs.

Blood.

My hands flew to my belly as panic surged through me.

“No…”

“Just leave her,” Derek said coldly to Bianca, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “She brought this on herself. After hurting you, she deserves it. She’ll cry and apologize later anyway.”

They walked away.

Just like that, they left me there on the floor.

When I opened my eyes again, everything above me was bright white.

The smell of disinfectant filled the air. Machines beeped steadily beside me.

I was lying in a hospital bed.

And Derek was sitting beside me, his expression tense and worried.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said quickly the moment he saw I was awake. “I didn’t know you were pregnant. If I had known… But it’s alright now. The baby is safe.”

His words twisted painfully in my chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, leaning closer, his voice suddenly gentle again. “Are you really still angry about the anniversary? Or about Bianca? I already said I’m sorry. Look, I even bought you something.”

He pulled out a small velvet box and opened it.

Inside was a necklace—Biancautiful and glittering.

Perfect.

But the moment I saw it, I remembered the silver chain I had seen around Bianca’s neck days earlier.

It was the exact same necklace.

I stared at it silently, feeling nothing.

“Please leave,” I whispered finally, my voice empty. “I don’t need you here. And neither does this baby.”

Before he could respond, the door suddenly burst open.

The butler rushed inside, looking pale and panicked.

“Sir,” he said urgently, “something’s wrong with Miss Bianca. She fainted and it seems like she needs a blood transfusion.”

Derek stood up immediately.

“I’ll come right away,” he said without hesitation, already heading toward the door.

And just like that… he left.

The room became unBiancarably quiet.

Only the steady beeping of the monitor reminded me that I was still alive.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, numb.

Hours passed.

He never returned.

Eventually, unable to stand the silence any longer, I picked up the remote and turned on the television mounted on the wall.

The screen flickered before switching to a live broadcast.

My breath caught.

Across the screen flashed the words: Top Model Bianca Moreno.

The reporter leaned forward with a microphone.

“You’ve been making headlines not only in the fashion industry but also in your personal life,” she said. “We recently heard about your divorce. How are you doing now?”

Bianca tilted her head slightly, looking delicate and vulnerable.

“Of course it was painful,” she replied softly. “But I believe everything happens for a reason. Sometimes heartbreak leads you exactly where you’re meant to be… to your true love.”

The camera slowly zoomed out.

And suddenly Derek appeared beside her.

He looked flawless in a tailored suit, his hand resting naturally against the small of her back like it belonged there.

He looked at her with a warmth I hadn’t seen directed at me in years.

Then he leaned down and kissed her.

Not a quick peck.

A deep, passionate kiss—right there in front of the flashing cameras.

The reporters erupted in excitement.

“When did your relationship start?”

“Are you two officially together now?”

Derek simply tightened his arm around her waist.

“Yes,” he said confidently. “She’s the woman I love. I want everyone to know that.”

My fingers tightened around the remote as my breathing became shallow.

And suddenly everything made sense.

Why he never brought me to public events.

Why he insisted our marriage stay hidden, claiming his enemies might target me.

Why I was always kept out of sight while he shined under the spotlight.

It had never been about protecting me.

He was only waiting for Bianca to come back.

But that was fine.

Just a few more days… and I would be gone.

My hands shook so badly that when I signed the discharge papers, the pen dragged across the page in uneven strokes. The nurse standing beside the bed watched quietly, her eyes soft with sympathy. Afterward, she draped a warm blanket over my shoulders and offered a small, pitying smile before wheeling me outside.

The afternoon sunlight hit me immediately. The air felt too sharp against my skin—too real, too cold.

I went home by myself.

When I stepped inside the house, it no longer felt like mine. It felt like I had wandered into a stranger’s carefully arranged exhibit. Every corner held memories that suddenly seemed staged, artificial.

Without really thinking about it, I started cleaning.

Maybe it was the lingering haze from the hospital. Maybe it was the empty, furious ache inside my chest. But I began throwing things away with reckless determination, as if clearing the room might somehow clear him from my life too.

Dresses I once loved. Scarves he used to wrap around my neck while pretending he adored how they looked on me. Framed photographs of us smiling like we were still a happy couple.

All of it went into boxes and trash bags.

I scrubbed the kitchen counters until the smell of lemon cleaner burned the inside of my nose. I wiped down surfaces, erasing fingerprints, erasing signs that he had ever been so comfortably woven into my life.

Eventually, I opened the closet in our bedroom.

The first thing that hit me was the scent.

Bianca’s perfume.

Sweet, heavy, unmistakable.

Inside, I saw neatly folded sweaters that didn’t belong to me. A shoebox stamped with a designer label I had never owned. A stack of glossy fashion magazines, each with her face splashed across the cover.

And tucked quietly between the scarves was a small black box.

It looked exactly like a ring box.

My chest tightened as I picked it up and lifted the lid.

The ring inside wasn’t mine.

It was thin and delicate, sparkling coldly under the light—clearly meant for someone else’s finger. Someone smaller. Someone he had been waiting for.

My lungs felt like they were collapsing.

I didn’t stop to think.

I snapped the lid shut, shoved the ring back inside the box, wrapped it roughly in tissue paper, and threw it straight into the trash. The lid slammed down with a hollow bang, like the sound of a final decision.

Then I gathered everything else.

Bianca’s sweaters. The magazines. Even the pair of heels she had left near the bed.

I stuffed them all into bags—not because I wanted to keep them, but because I wanted them out of this house. Out of the place where I had once believed I was loved.

When Derek walked through the door, the first thing he saw was chaos.

Drawers pulled open. Boxes overturned. Bags piled everywhere.

His mouth tightened as his gaze swept across the room. For a brief second, something flickered in his eyes—something like understanding.

But it disappeared almost instantly, replaced by the familiar coldness I had come to recognize.

“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped.

Before I could even respond, his hand came swinging.

The slap landed across my face with brutal force, just like the one before. Pain exploded along my cheek, and I tasted blood where my teeth cut into my lip.

“Are you trying to provoke me?” he growled. “Do you have any idea what this kind of behavior does to me? To my reputation?”

My chest rose and fell sharply as anger burned through me.

“If you refuse to divorce me,” I shot back, my voice shaking with rage, “then I’ll throw everything away! I’m still your wife, Derek! Have you forgotten that? I have every right to be in this house!”

He let out a harsh laugh.

“Divorce?” he sneered. “Are you serious right now? What is this really about—did you think you could start cheating on me?”

His eyes narrowed.

“Bianca told me you’re seeing another man,” he continued coldly. “Actually… are you even sure that baby you’re carrying is mine?”

The accusation hit me like a slap.

“Bianca told you that?” I cried. “That I have another man? Where’s the proof?” My voice cracked as the words came out. “How can you believe something like that without even asking me?”

He didn’t hesitate for a second.

“I don’t need proof,” he replied flatly. “Bianca said it. She’s not the kind of person who would lie about something like that.”

Out of everything he had done, that hurt the most.

The fact that he trusted her word more than mine. That rumors from her lips meant more to him than anything I could say.

For a moment, anger surged so violently through me that I wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face. I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the pain I had been drowning in.

Bianca stepped forward then, her movements gentle and careful—like a harmless lamb.

Except I knew better.

“It’s not confirmed,” she said softly, batting her lashes as if she were the innocent one here. “It’s just something I heard.” She glanced between us with a delicate smile. “Still… maybe the two of you should talk about it. Honesty is important in a marriage.”

Then she looked at Derek again with that perfect public smile.

The kind she probably practiced in front of cameras.

I saw the way she leaned comfortably within the space of his arm, how naturally he stood beside her. As if the room itself had shifted to make space for her.

“You bitch,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

My hand shot forward, reaching for her hair.

But Derek grabbed my wrist midmotion, his grip tight as iron.

“If you touch her,” he warned darkly, “I swear you’ll regret it.”

I yanked my arm away, glaring at him.

At that point, there was nothing left worth saving.

“Fine,” I said bitterly. “Then stay with her. Be happy. Forget about me. You’ve already disappointed me more than enough.”

I turned toward the door, lifting one of the bags I had packed. Inside it, the ring wrapped in tissue was buried among the rest of the things.

As I stepped toward the exit, Bianca’s voice followed me.

“Where are you going, Miranda?”

I didn’t even turn around.

“That’s none of your business.”

For the first time in a long time, saying that felt strangely satisfying.

I had believed I was the tragic wife in this story. But Bianca seemed to enjoy playing that role far more than I ever could.

I refused to compete for it.

A light laugh escaped her.

“Don’t worry,” she said sweetly. “I’ll take good care of him for you.”

Her voice dripped with false kindness.

“You shouldn’t feel jealous,” she added. “He belongs to me now.”

She stepped closer as if she intended to take the bag from me.

Instead, I opened it and pulled out the small items inside—the ring box, the necklace, all the little tokens Derek had kept for her.

I placed them directly into her hands.

“If he really loves you,” I said calmly, meeting her gaze, “then convince him to sign the divorce papers.”

Then I walked out before she could say another word.

Outside, the cold air hit my face like a slap.

My phone vibrated in my coat pocket.

When I pulled it out, my father’s name flashed across the screen.

I answered.

“How could you do something like this?” His voice exploded with anger the moment the call connected. “You said you want a divorce, and now you’re throwing everything away?”

His tone turned sharp and threatening.

“Don’t you dare go through with this, Miranda. Do you understand me? If you insist on divorcing him, don’t expect any help from me. You’ll be completely cut off.”

He paused, his voice hard as steel.

“Do you hear me?”

“I’m done,” I said quietly. My voice didn’t waver, even though everything inside me trembled. “I’m not going to live like someone you can control anymore, Father. And I won’t let him destroy what’s left of me. Goodbye.”

Before he could bark another order or threaten me again, I pressed the red button and ended the call.

The silence that followed filled the room, heavy and deep—but instead of suffocating me, it felt like breathing fresh air for the first time.

I packed slowly.

One suitcase. That was all.

Inside it went my documents, a few clothes, and the last belongings that were truly mine—not gifts from my father, not things Derek had bought to quiet me down.

Today was the day.

The day I would cut myself free from everything. Even from the child I had once prayed so desperately for.

My miracle baby.

My palm slid over my stomach, guilt twisting painfully in my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. “But I can’t bring you into a world like this. Not with a father like him… not into a life like mine.”

When I stepped out into the hallway, Derek was already there.

He stood waiting, a bouquet of white lilies in his hands. His tie hung loose around his collar, and his expression looked carefully regretful.

“Miranda,” he said softly, as if he had been expecting me to appear. “I’m sorry about everything. I never meant for things to go that far.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re upset because of that interview, right? I had no choice. It was important for Bianca’s career—the media attention, her reputation… you understand that, don’t you?”

He stepped closer, holding out the flowers.

“Please don’t let this ruin us.”

I stared at the lilies.

A hollow laugh rose in my chest, though it never quite made it past my lips.

“Do whatever you want, Derek,” I said flatly. “You always have.”

His eyes darkened slightly, but he kept his voice calm.

“Where are you going?”

I forced a smile onto my face.

“I’m going back to my father’s place.”

The tension left his shoulders immediately.

“Good,” he said with relief. “That’s probably for the best. Take some time there to clear your head. I’ll be gone too—business trip. But when I come back, I’ll bring you something nice. Anything you want. Just wait for me, okay?”

Before I could respond, another voice drifted into the hallway.

“Derek? I’m ready!”

Bianca appeared at the corner, her tone bright and cheerful, though there was something sharp hidden beneath it.

“Let’s go. I can’t wait for our trip to the Maldives. It’s going to be so fun.” She suddenly paused, glancing at me with exaggerated innocence. “Oh—sorry. I mean the business trip.”

Her lips curled slightly.

“Unless… you want to come with us, Miranda?”

I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me,” I replied calmly. “I have something to take care of myself.”

Then I walked past them.

Past the scent of lilies in Derek’s hands.

Past Bianca’s smug smile.

And straight out into the waiting night.

The hospital smelled strongly of antiseptic and cleaning chemicals.

I lay on the narrow bed, my hands resting over the faint curve of my stomach. The swell was barely visible, but the weight of it felt unBiancarable.

The doctor spoke beside me in a calm, professional tone, explaining each step of the procedure. But the words blended together into a distant hum.

I barely heard anything.

Then my phone buzzed on the small table beside the bed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the screen light up.

Bianca.

My heartBiancat skipped.

Against my better judgment, I reached for the phone and unlocked it with shaking fingers.

Photos appeared on the screen one after another.

Bianca and Derek raising champagne glasses together.

The two of them laughing on a bright balcony under the sun.

Their arms wrapped around each other like they were the only two people in the world.

Then a video began playing.

Derek stood beside her, feeding her a piece of cake with a fork. They both laughed, smiling brightly, glowing in a way he hadn’t looked with me for years.

My throat tightened painfully.

But the worst part wasn’t the pictures.

It was the message that came afterward.

Oops, sorry. Sent that to the wrong person.

A few seconds later, another message appeared.

Or maybe not. Looks like he smiles more when he’s with me, don’t you think?

A winking emoji followed the text.

I shut my eyes tightly, gripping the phone so hard my knuckles turned white.

The doctor’s voice broke through the ringing in my ears.

“Mrs. Montoya,” she said gently. “Are you ready?”

I nodded once.

I couldn’t trust my voice.

When everything was over, I lay there staring blankly at the ceiling.

My body felt empty.

But my chest felt unBiancarably heavy.

The kind of emptiness no one could ever fully explain.

Then my phone vibrated again.

His name appeared on the screen.

Derek.

I bought you a gift for when you come home. I can’t wait to see you again. Hope you’re enjoying your time with your father.

A photo followed the message.

Derek stood outside a store holding a shopping bag, smiling as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just spent the last few days vacationing with another woman.

I stared at the screen until my stomach twisted.

Almost immediately, another message appeared.

This time from Luca.

Miranda… I’ll be waiting at the airport when your flight lands. Don’t worry. I’ll be there.

My hand slowly reached for the small gift box sitting on the bedside table.

Inside it, carefully wrapped, was the tiny body of the child I had lost.

My aborted baby.

The signed divorce papers rested beside it.

I added the letter I had written earlier through tears, addressed to Derek.

Then I closed the lid and tied the ribbon tightly before holding the box against my chest.

When a nurse entered the room to check on me, I stopped her.

“Could you help me with something?” I asked softly.

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Please deliver this to my home in a few days,” I said. “My husband will be back from his trip by then. Put it on the coffee table… and make sure it’s the first thing he sees when he walks in.”

After that, I didn’t stay any longer.

I picked up my suitcase, ignoring the dull ache in my abdomen, and walked straight out of the hospital.

I never looked back.

The airport was crowded and loud.

People rushed past me with luggage, voices overlapping in every direction.

I stood quietly in line, boarding pass clutched in my hand, my heart feeling like a heavy stone in my chest.

Just as the airplane engines began roaring outside the window, my phone buzzed again.

Derek.

Baby, should I buy you a necklace? Or maybe a bracelet instead?

My thumb hovered over the screen.

For a moment—just a moment—I almost replied.

Almost.

Instead, I deleted the message.

Then I opened my photo album and erased every picture of us.

One by one.

Finally, I deleted his number from my contacts.

Removed from my phone.

Removed from my life.

As the plane lifted off the runway, I felt it.

A quiet, invisible snap deep inside my chest.

Something breaking.

Something final.

With one last motion, I erased the final trace of him.

Every bit of love I once had for Derek.

Gone.

Derek’s POV

The screen of my phone glared back at me, cold and unyielding. For the tenth time that hour, I refreshed the messages, scrolling up, down, checking if maybe I had missed something. But no—the last message was still mine. The little gray bubble with nothing beneath it. Miranda hadn’t replied.

It wasn’t like her.

For as long as I could remember, Miranda was always the one who messaged first. If I was away on business trips, she would flood me with reminders to eat, to rest, to come home quickly. She had never once let a night pass without a call. Yet now, silence.

My jaw tightened. My thumb hovered over the screen, crafting another message before deleting it. I had already sent more than enough. “Are you okay?” “Where are you?” “Why aren’t you answering?” It was pathetic—me, Derek Montoya, reduced to waiting on a woman’s reply like some lovesick fool.

Was she mad at me?

The thought gnawed at me. Maybe it was because I had left her behind when Bianca and I went to the Maldives. But what else was I supposed to do? Camille—no, Bianca—needed me. She always did.

And yet, beneath the excuses, a strange ache settled in my chest. I missed her.

No. That couldn’t be it. I clenched my teeth, shaking the thought off as though it were poison. This wasn’t missing her. I was just… guilty. That was it. Guilty, because she was pregnant. And the child inside her was mine. That was the only reason I felt this way. Nothing more.

I dropped the phone on the nightstand with a dull thud, running a hand down my face. I didn’t want to think about Miranda anymore.

“Why are you staring at your phone like that?”

Bianca’s voice sliced through the haze of my thoughts. She appeared from the bathroom, her hair loose, a silk robe tied around her waist. She slid onto the bed beside me, her perfume filling the air as she leaned in to kiss my neck.

I stiffened.

“Don’t tell me it’s Miranda again,” she murmured, her lips brushing against my jaw. “Derek, you’re with me. Why are you still worried about her?”

I forced a short laugh, grabbing her hand. “I was just… checking. In case she does something stupid.”

Bianca’s expression soured instantly. She pulled back, scoffing, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Why not just let her go? She’s nothing but trouble. Why do you even need her, when I’m right here?”

I looked at her—at the woman who once claimed to be my savior, the one who dragged me back from the wreckage of a life I thought I’d lost. I owed her. But debt wasn’t love. And yet, wasn’t this what I wanted?

“You know how this works,” I said flatly, running my hand through my hair. “Her father and I—we have a deal. I promised to protect Miranda, and in exchange, he gave me part of their business. Once he’s gone, everything transitions. And then… then we’ll be free.”

Bianca rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply. “Always excuses. Always business.” She shifted closer, wrapping her arms around me, her lips grazing my ear. “Well, maybe you should remember that I’m the one who’s always here for you. Not her.”

I caught her chin, making her meet my gaze. “Don’t start this again, Bianca.”

She scoffed. “Start what? The truth? That you’re stringing us both along? She’s nothing but a contract, Derek. She’s in your way, and you know it. Why can’t you admit it?”

“Because it’s not that simple!” I snapped, my voice low and sharp. “Her father trusts me. I can’t just—throw her away like garbage.”

“You already have,” Bianca hissed, her nails digging into my chest. “Every time you crawl back to me, you prove it. You’re mine, Derek. Stop pretending she still matters.”

I shut my eyes, breathing hard. If only I could believe that.

I let her push me down against the pillows. Our mouths met, her body pressed against mine, but even as I kissed her, even as her hands clawed at me, my mind betrayed me. Miranda’s face flickered behind my eyes. Her smile. Her tears. The way she used to whisper my name at night like it was her only prayer.

The sound that almost escaped my lips wasn’t Bianca’s name—it was hers. Miranda.

I bit it back, but it burned in my throat like fire.

Bianca didn’t notice. Or maybe she did, and she ignored it. She always did.

Later that night, long after Bianca had fallen asleep against my chest, I lay awake, my mind restless. When I finally drifted off, the dream came like a knife.

Miranda—crying.

Her face pale, her eyes red with grief, calling out to me. Reaching for me. And I… I wasn’t there. I was watching her through a glass wall, unable to touch her, unable to reach her. Her sobs cut through me, echoing, accusing.

I jolted awake, sweat dampening my skin. My chest heaved as I grabbed my phone, dialing before I could secondguess myself.

“Hello?”

It was her father’s voice, deep and weary.

“Sir,” I said quickly, trying to mask the tremor in my tone. “Is Miranda with you? Did she… go to see you?”

There was a pause. Confusion laced his words when he replied. “What are you saying, Derek? Miranda isn’t with me. She never came.”

I sat up straight, my pulse hammering. “What do you mean? She left. I thought… I thought she went home to you.”

“Home?” His father’s voice sharpened. “Don’t you know where she is? Derek, you’re her husband. You should know.”

My throat went dry. “I…”

“Maybe,” her father said slowly, the weight of his words like stones, “she left you. Just as she’s always wanted. And you let her.”

My entire body went cold.

No.

No, that couldn’t be. Miranda… gone? Without a word? Without me?

It was impossible.

But the silence around me screamed otherwise.

Derek’s POV

“What?” My voice thundered through the receiver, sharp enough to make even me flinch. “What the hell do you mean she’s not with you?”

Miranda’s father sighed heavily on the other end, his tone calm but biting. “Don’t raise your voice at me, Derek. You’re the one who was supposed to take care of her. Instead, you paraded Bianca around and shoved Miranda aside. And now you’re shocked she’s gone?”

My fist clenched around the phone. “Still! You should have told me sooner. Where is she now? Tell me where she went!”

“You think I know?” the older man shot back. “If I did, do you think I’d be sitting here calmly talking to you? No. I’d have her home. But she didn’t come here. She’s not with me. You should start asking yourself why she left you, Derek. Maybe it’s because you failed her.”

His words stung, not because they were lies, but because they were true.

“You’re her father,” I snapped, my chest heaving. “You should have protected her—”

“And you’re her husband!” His tone cut like a whip. “That was your job, Derek. Don’t you dare push this on me. The deal we had—Miranda was your responsibility. Protect her, and the company would be yours one day. But if she’s gone, if you can’t even keep her safe, then forget it. You’ll have nothing.”

The call ended with a click. I stood there, the silence roaring in my ears. My jaw locked, my entire body vibrating with fury. No. No, I wouldn’t believe this. Miranda wouldn’t just leave. She wouldn’t abandon me.

My mind betrayed me, pulling me back to all the moments that proved otherwise. The way she used to wait by the door whenever I came home late from meetings, a tray of food kept warm even though she’d already eaten. The way she’d send me texts every morning—short, sweet lines like Don’t forget breakfast or Good luck today. And the nights when she curled into me, whispering, You’re all I ever wanted, Derek. Just don’t forget me.

How could someone like that walk away without a word? No, it didn’t make sense.

Yet a whisper gnawed at me. Hadn’t I neglected her? Hadn’t I chosen Bianca more times than I cared to admit? I remembered Miranda’s eyes dimming each time I brushed her off, her smile growing smaller with every excuse I made.

My fists clenched. Was I fooling myself by thinking she’d always be there?

For a long, torturous moment, I stood torn—part of me screaming to let it go, to bury myself in Bianca’s arms and forget, while the other part burned with a need to run, to find her, to not let this be the end.

I grabbed my suitcase and started tossing clothes inside.

Behind me, Bianca stirred, rubbing her eyes. “Derek?” she murmured, her voice soft and heavy with sleep. Then, realizing what I was doing, her tone sharpened. “What’s happening? Why are you packing? We’re supposed to enjoy the Maldives, remember? We’re not even finished here.”

I didn’t look at her. “Because Miranda is missing.”

“Missing?” she repeated with a laugh of disbelief, sitting up straighter. “What the hell does that even mean—missing? She’s old enough to take care of herself. She’ll come back when she’s ready. Why are you even worried about her? Don’t tell me…”

“Enough!” My voice snapped like a whip. I turned, glaring at her. “I’ve had enough of you, Bianca. For once, just shut up. If you want to stay here, then stay. But I’m leaving. Now.”

Her face twisted with rage and desperation. “Derek, don’t you walk out on me again! You’re choosing her over me, aren’t you? After everything—after what I gave up for you!”

I didn’t answer. I picked up the phone and called for the private plane. Within the hour, I was gone, Bianca’s screams echoing behind me as the villa doors slammed shut.

On the flight back, I stared out at the endless ocean, my chest hollow. Every second I couldn’t reach Miranda made me restless. By the time the wheels hit the ground, my resolve was iron: I would find her, no matter what it took.

The next morning, I stormed into the mansion. “Miranda!” My voice echoed through the halls. “Miranda!”

Silence answered me. Only the butler appeared, his face pale and nervous.

“Where is she?” I demanded. “Tell me she’s here.”

The butler shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, sir. Miss Miranda… she never came home.”

I felt my blood run cold.

“Call the police,” I ordered. “Now. I’ll file a missing person report.”

Within an hour, two officers stood in the study, notebooks ready.

“Name of the missing person?” one asked.

“Miranda.” My voice cracked with urgency. “My wife. Miranda—”

The officer looked up, frowning. “I’m sorry, sir, but you cannot file a missing person report.”

“What do you mean I can’t?” My voice rose. “I’m her husband!”

The officer exchanged a glance with his partner, then flipped open a folder. “Sir… legally, you are not. According to our records, you are divorced.”

I blinked, stunned. “No. That’s not possible.”

Just as I was about to demand an explanation, the butler entered, carrying a small package. His hands trembled as he set it down in front of me.

“This just arrived, sir. From Miss Miranda.”

The officers lingered, watching. My heart pounded as I tore it open. Inside were three things: a folded set of documents, a tiny sealed box, and a letter.

The documents were divorce papers—signed. My vision blurred as I read her name scrawled at the bottom.

The small box nearly slipped from my hand as I opened it. And then the air left my lungs.

Inside was a medical envelope… containing confirmation of an abortion.

My hands shook violently.

I picked up the letter last. Her handwriting was neat, calm, far too calm for the storm it unleashed inside me.

Derek,

For twenty years, I thought I could wait for you. Forgive you. Love you despite everything. But you gave my heart away before I even realized it was gone. I cannot raise a child in a world where I am not wanted. I cannot keep being the second choice. So I chose myself this time. This is goodbye.

The paper slipped from my fingers.

I stood frozen on the spot, the world tilting sideways. Divorce. Abortion. Goodbye.