A Disheartening Birthday

June

I woke up that morning with a strange feeling in my chest—a quiet kind of hope that maybe, just maybe, Lucas had remembered. After all, it was my birthday. Even if things between us had been strained lately, surely he wouldn't forget. There was no way he would. I knew we would get past all of the drama that we've held between us.

But as the morning light filtered through the curtains, my phone remained silent. I stared at it for a few minutes, waiting for the familiar buzz of a notification, the simple "Happy birthday" text that would at least acknowledge my existence. Nothing came.

A part of me wasn't surprised. This wasn't the first time Lucas had neglected to remember. It had become almost normal now and I hated it. I let out a long, heavy breath, pushing down the familiar ache that settled in my chest.

I tried calling him once, just to hear his voice, hoping for some small reassurance, but it went straight to voicemail.

I scoffed. "No surprise there." Deep down I expected it because he was always busy. Always somewhere else.

I knew better than to dwell on it. If I let myself think too long about the silence, it would only make the ache worse. So, I got dressed, slipped into my work clothes, and told myself that today wasn't going to be any different. Birthday or not, life had to go on.

At work, the minutes dragged by slower than usual. I kept my phone nearby, checking it more often than I cared to admit. Maybe he was busy and would call later. Maybe he hadn't forgotten after all. I reminded myself.

My phone finally buzzed in the early afternoon. For a fleeting second, my heart lifted, thinking it was Lucas. But when I saw the name on the screen, my heart sank. It was his secretary.

I hesitated before answering, already knowing the conversation wouldn't be one I wanted to have. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Grey," her voice was polite, professional, and completely devoid of warmth. "I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Greys stay has been extended for a few more days. He'll be traveling for the rest of the week."

I felt a shuddered as I felt my skin crawl. Of course, what the hell was I thinking, that he would remember?. I hadn't even realized he was gone again. "Thank you for letting me know," I said, my voice hollow, barely managing to disguise the hurt.

The call ended, and I stood there for a moment, staring at the screen. My birthday. He hadn't even given me the courtesy to tell me himself.

I pushed through the rest of the day in a daze, trying to ignore the growing fatigue that weighed me down. Everything felt heavier than usual, like the world was pressing in on me from all sides. My co-worker, Marissa, was the one who noticed first.

"You don't look so good, June," she said, frowning at me as I finished up with a patient.

"You should take the rest of the day off."

I shook my head, trying to force a smile. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," she said firmly, crossing her arms. "Go home. Take a break. You've been running yourself ragged."

I wanted to argue, but deep down, I knew she was right. "Okay," I whispered, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me.

I left the hospital and went home, but when I opened the door, the empty apartment greeted me like a slap in the face. Lucas was gone, and that little red box—the one holding my pregnancy results—was still sitting untouched on the counter, exactly where I had left it days ago.

I stared at it, feeling a lump rise in my throat. I had planned to surprise him, to share the news that we were expecting. But now, it just seemed like one more thing I couldn't tell him. One more secret to bury beneath the weight of all the others.

I needed to get out. I couldn't stay in that empty apartment, waiting for a man who didn't care enough to remember my birthday. I grabbed my coat and keys, and without thinking, I headed to a bar.

I knew it was a bad idea. I was pregnant, after all. But the weight of everything—the loneliness, the neglect, the betrayal—was suffocating, and I needed something to numb it, if only for a little while.

The bar was dimly lit, and the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume filled the air. I ordered a drink, telling myself I wouldn't actually drink it. But as the glass sat in front of me, temptation grew stronger. Maybe one sip wouldn't hurt.

I stared at the drink, lost in thought, when I heard a voice beside me. "Rough night?"

I turned to see a man sitting at the bar next to me, his dark eyes glinting with curiosity. He was attractive, in a rugged, confident kind of way. I looked away, not in the mood for small talk. "Something like that."

"Care to share?" he asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

I shook my head. "Not really."

But he didn't take the hint. "Come on, it might help. Sometimes talking to a stranger is easier than talking to people you know."

I glanced at him again, and there was something honest about his presence. I didn't know this man, but there was an ease to his demeanor that made me feel like he wasn't judging me. "I'm married," I said, more to myself than to him. "But it doesn't feel like it anymore."

I darted around the crowd as I thought about the good memories Lucas and I had together. At least then, work wasn't getting in the way. I could actually speak to him and he would listen to me even if the funniest stories seemed interesting to me. My career was never the problem for him, I didn't think he had any problem with me, at least the one that I knew of. Now, everything felt disoriented.

"Ah," he said, nodding as if he understood more than he let on. "That's tough. Sometimes marriage can feel… lonely."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his insight. "Yeah. Exactly."

He introduced himself as Damian, and we talked for a while—about nothing and everything. It was easy, too easy, to forget my troubles as we chatted. He listened when I ranted about the little things, offering little pieces of wisdom here and there without making it seem like he was pushing.

Before I knew it, hours had passed, and I felt a strange sense of calm that I hadn't felt in a long time. When I finally admitted I needed to go home, Damian offered to drive me. Normally, I would have refused, but there was something about him that made me feel safe and nurtured. So I agreed.

As we pulled up to my apartment, I thanked him, trying to ignore the way my heart fluttered when he smiled. He handed me his card, and I pocketed it without a second thought. I wasn't sure why, but quickly I gave into the ease he provided, a part of me knew this wouldn't be the last time I saw him. I could just feel it.

But the moment I stepped inside, that calmness vanished.

Kyra was sitting on my couch.

The sight of her in my home—my home—made my blood run cold. How the hell did she get in here? I asked myself.

"Kyra?" I stammered, my voice cracking with disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

She stood up, flashing me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, Lucas asked me to drop something off. I hope you don't mind."

Mind? I wanted to scream. Of course I minded! But before I could find my voice, she continued, walking toward me with that same fake smile plastered on her face.

"You know," she said, looking around the apartment with a casual air, "I love the color of your bedroom. It would make a great nursery, don't you think?"

My heart stopped. "Excuse me?" My blood boiled.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I just think a baby would look so cute in that room. It has such a warm, welcoming vibe."

I felt like I was going to throw up. How did she know about my bedroom? How did she know anything about my life? And more importantly, why was she talking about babies? She sounded sure and I couldn't help but think if Lucas was yelling her about our marriage? Lucas had welcomed a third party into our marriage and her presence even made me more sick. My stomach churned thinking about her words.

My mind raced, and all I could do was stare at her, frozen in place. It was as if she knew everything. As if she had already taken my place in Lucas's life, in my home, in my marriage.

"Oh, and that man who dropped you off," she added, her voice dropping to a whisper, "are you sure the baby is Lucas's? Because it seems like you've been… busy."

I couldn't breathe. My legs staggered, too strained to stay in one place, and I gripped the edge of the counter for support, the room spinning around me. "Get out," I finally managed to say, my voice barely audible.

Kyra just shrugged, brushing past me on her way to the door. "Take care of yourself, June. Stress isn't good for the baby."

I stood there, trembling, watching her leave as if she had just ripped my world apart with a smile on her face. When the door clicked shut behind her, I sank to the floor, tears spilling down my cheeks.

How had it come to this? How had Lucas let this happen? And how the hell had I been so blind? Was he a party to this as well? To watch me suffer while he takes this bitch as his tag along?

In my panic, I grabbed my phone and called the one person I knew would help. "Khloe," I whispered, my voice breaking, "I think I'm in trouble."