That night, Sebastian punished me for it.
He bit my lip, pinned me down, and asked against my mouth, “You love begging for other people so much. Why don’t you beg for me now?”
After that, Lily’s name started appearing more and more often in our conversations.
At first, it was teasing.
“That idiot you saved spilled coffee all over a contract today. I had to clean it up for her.”
I kissed him and praised him for being a good boss.
But slowly, the tone changed.
“She fell asleep on my desk today. Actually drooled on the paperwork.”
I laughed.
“She’s really hopeless,” he went on one day. “Spilled water on herself. Then had the nerve to borrow my jacket.”
I cut in sharply. “And did you lend it to her?”
Sebastian paused, then gave me an annoyed sideways glance.
“How could I not? She’s your pet project.”
As his title rose, he got even busier. And somehow, the number of things we had to say to each other shrank. I thought it was work stress. I didn’t dare push. We either sat in silence, or somehow every conversation looped back to Lily.
As if without her, Sebastian and I had nothing left to talk about.
I hated it.
But I still chose trust.
Because he was Sebastian.
Because he was the person I had loved half my life.
Then one day, my stomach started acting strange.
Constant nausea.
I scheduled a checkup.
And at the far end of the OB-GYN hallway, I saw two familiar figures.
Sebastian.
And Lily.
He was helping her walk.
Careful.
Close.
Intimate.
For a second, all the blood in my body seemed to rush straight into my head. My vision blurred. I couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t think.
By the time I snapped out of it, I had already charged at them and kicked Lily to the floor.
She screamed and clutched her stomach.
“Sebastian, it hurts— the baby—”
He looked up at me then.
I will never forget that look.
It was so cold it felt less like anger and more like disgust.
Like he was looking at something dead.
He didn’t explain.
Didn’t deny it.
Didn’t even speak to me.
He just scooped Lily into his arms and shouted for a doctor.
I don’t remember how I got home.
That evening, the city lights came on one by one.
I had a home.
And somehow, I didn’t.
Sebastian and I fell into the worst cold war of our lives. He didn’t come back for half a month. When he finally did, it was only to pack up his things.
I went hysterical.
I grabbed his sleeve and screamed, demanding to know why he had betrayed me.
He wouldn’t say a word.
Just stood there with his arms folded, watching me smash everything in the house like a woman out of her mind.
Six months earlier, he had still been helping me choose wedding dresses.
Planning our child for the following year.
I couldn’t understand how a heart could change that fast.