Chapter 3

Damien's phone buzzed loudly, shattering the fake tranquility in the room. He glanced at the screen, and his face tightened. He shot a quick, nervous look at me before stepping out onto the small balcony to take the call.

He tried to keep his voice down, but I heard fragments of the conversation.

"...no, everything's fine... I'll take care of it... I'll be back soon, I promise..."

His voice, even when muffled, was dripping with a tenderness that made my stomach turn.

"...of course I'll bring you back that cheesecake you like. Just be good and wait for me."

He hung up and walked back inside, a mask of apology already plastered on his face.

"Something came up at the office," he said, not quite meeting my eyes. "A real emergency. I have to go."

He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head so his lips landed on my cheek. "I'll try to be back for dinner," he promised.

I just nodded, silent.

Cohen looked from me to Damien, a worried frown on his face. "Is it serious?"

"Just a minor issue," Damien said dismissively. They were so good at this, acting out their little play right in front of me.

Cohen decided to leave with him. "We'll let you get some rest," he said. At the door, they both turned back.

Damien's eyes were full of a deep, theatrical affection. "I'll be back tonight, I promise."

Cohen ruffled my hair, a gesture that used to feel comforting, but now felt like a violation. "Get some sleep, kiddo. I'll take you for your check-up tomorrow."

I smiled and nodded, playing along until the door clicked shut behind them.

The sound of that click echoed in the silent apartment. It was the sound of a cage door locking. A world with me on one side, and the two people I trusted most on the other.

Any last, foolish hope I might have been clinging to died in that moment.

The empty room felt vast and cold. The only sound was the ticking of a clock on the wall, each second a hammer blow against my heart. They were killing me, not with a weapon, but with their love, their lies, their suffocating care.

Damien did not come back that night. He sent a text.

`So sorry, love. Got held up. You get some rest. I love you.`

The next day, Cohen didn't come either.

I took a cab to the hospital by myself.

I finished my check-up and was walking through the lobby when a commotion near the main entrance caught my attention.

I looked up and saw them.

Damien was there, his arm wrapped protectively around Kara's shoulders. He was looking down at her, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated adoration.

Cohen was on her other side, his voice low and anxious.

"The doctor said you have a threatened miscarriage, Kara. You need to walk slowly. Be careful."

Miscarriage.

The word hit me with the force of a physical blow.

Pregnant. She was pregnant.

Kara looked up at Damien, her lower lip trembling. "You shouldn't have left me alone last night," she whimpered. "I was so scared. I think that's why this happened."

Damien's face crumpled with guilt. "You're right. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry, baby."

He stopped walking and pulled her into a hug, one hand stroking her hair, the other resting gently on her still-flat stomach. The look in his eyes... it was a look of such profound love and awe, a look he had never, ever given me.

"I promise," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I will never leave you alone again."

"You better not," she said, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips.

Cohen chimed in, his voice attempting a lighthearted tone. "He'd better not. He has to take care of you."

The three of them stood there, a perfect little family, silhouetted against the bright light of the hospital entrance. The sight was so painful it made my eyes burn.

Kara leaned her head against Damien's chest. "Will you always be this good to me?"

He kissed the top of her head. "Of course I will. You're my wife. You're carrying my child."

My wife. My child.

The taste of blood filled my mouth again. I pressed my hand to my lips, forcing myself to swallow it down.

I turned and walked out of the hospital, my legs moving on autopilot.

My phone buzzed. A text from Cohen.

`Hey, kiddo. How was the check-up? Sorry I got tied up in a meeting and couldn't make it. I promise I'll be there for the next one!`

I stared at the screen, and a laugh bubbled up from my chest, a broken, hysterical sound that was half sob, half shriek. Tears streamed down my face as I walked blindly down the street.