CHAPTER 24
Isabella sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall. It had been a week since she'd last seen Alexander, a week since her world had been turned upside down. Her heart ached in ways she didn't know were possible, and her thoughts were a swirling storm of confusion, anger, and longing.
She ran a hand through her unkempt hair, sighing deeply. No matter how much she tried to distract herself, Alexander's presence lingered like a shadow in her mind. She missed him—his touch, the warmth of his kisses, the way he would hold her close as if she were the most important person in his world.
"Why do I feel like this?" she muttered to herself. "He's a liar, a monster. He doesn't even want this baby."
Her hand instinctively rested on her belly, a bittersweet reminder of the life growing inside her. She felt ashamed for still yearning for him, for craving the man who had shattered her heart.
Her emotions were a tangled web. She was angry—furious, even—at his betrayal. But beneath the anger was a deep, hollow loneliness. Nights were the hardest. She would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying memories of their time together. The way he'd laugh, the way he'd make her feel like the center of the universe. Now, all of that felt like an illusion, a cruel joke.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she grabbed it instinctively, hoping for a moment that it was Alexander. But it wasn't. Just another promotional text. She tossed the phone aside with a groan, her frustration bubbling to the surface.
"I can't keep living like this," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.
Her thoughts spiraled further. She wondered what he was doing, who he was with. Was he at home, playing the role of the perfect husband and father? The thought made her chest tighten.
She stood up abruptly, pacing the room. "No," she said aloud. "I can't let myself think like this. He doesn't deserve my tears. He doesn't deserve me."
But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, her heart wouldn't let go. The memories of his touch, the passion they'd shared, lingered like a ghost, haunting her every waking moment.
---
As the hours dragged on, Isabella found herself consumed by conflicting emotions. At one point, an absurd thought crossed her mind: What if I ruin his marriage?
The idea startled her, and she immediately shook her head, horrified by her own thoughts. "No, no, no," she muttered, pressing her palms to her temples. "I can't do that. I'm not that kind of person."
She sank onto the couch, tears streaming down her face. She reminded herself of the pain she had felt when she learned the truth. The last thing she wanted was to inflict that kind of agony on someone else, especially another woman.
"It's not Angelina's fault," she whispered. "She didn't ask for this. Just like I didn't."
But even as she told herself this, she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Angelina had him first. She got to be his wife, the mother of his children, the one who shared his life in the open. Isabella was nothing more than a secret, a footnote in his story.
---
Determined to pull herself out of the darkness, Isabella decided to leave the apartment. She needed air, a change of scenery. She grabbed her purse and keys, glancing at the envelope of money Alexander had sent.
I'll make something good out of this, she thought.
She drove to a nearby baby store, her heart heavy but resolute. The store was bright and cheerful, filled with soft pastels and the scent of baby powder. Isabella wandered through the aisles, her fingers brushing against tiny clothes and plush toys.
For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a future where she could provide for her child, where she didn't need Alexander or anyone else. She picked out a few items: a small onesie with yellow ducks, a soft blanket, and a stuffed bear with a lopsided smile.
As she paid for the items, she felt a small flicker of hope. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
---
When she returned home, the weight of her reality settled back on her shoulders. She placed the baby items on the coffee table and sank onto the couch. Her gaze drifted to her phone, and before she could stop herself, she opened social media.
Her fingers hesitated over the search bar before typing Angelina St. Claire. The profile popped up immediately. It was public. Of course, it was public.
Isabella's heart sank as she scrolled through the posts. There they were: the perfect family. Angelina was stunning, with long, dark hair and a radiant smile. The children, a boy and a girl, looked so much like Alexander that it made Isabella's chest ache.
There were pictures of family vacations, birthday parties, and holiday celebrations. Each post was a carefully curated display of happiness, a stark contrast to the turmoil Isabella was experiencing.
One post in particular caught her attention: a family photo taken at the beach. Alexander stood in the middle, his arms around Angelina and the kids, his smile as charming as ever. The caption read, "Family is everything ❤️."
Isabella felt a surge of anger and despair. She touched her belly, her heart aching. Why did Angelina get to have it all? Why did she get to live the dream while Isabella was left to pick up the pieces?
Tears streamed down her face as she closed the app and tossed her phone aside. She clenched her fists, her mind racing with thoughts of what could have been.
---
By the time night fell, Isabella was emotionally drained. She sat on the couch, staring at the stuffed bear she had bought. She picked it up, holding it close as tears welled up in her eyes again.
"I'll figure this out," she whispered to herself, though her voice wavered. "I have to."
But as she sat there, cradling the bear, she couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of loss—loss of the life she thought she'd have, the man she thought she knew, and the future she had envisioned for her child.
For now, all she could do was wait and hope that the pain would eventually fade.