My Pregnancy Record Proved I Cheated? Then Why Did My Sister Panic? Chapter 10

My Pregnancy Record Proved I Cheated? Then Why Did My Sister Panic? Chapter 10

I didn’t see Nathan again for a while. 

His mother sent out feelers twice after that–once 

through her sister–in–law and once through a 

senior executive at Nathan’s company. 

The message was the same both times: the 

Holloways were willing to revive the engagement, 

and I could name my terms. 

I sent the same answer back through both of 

them. 

There was nothing to reconsider. 

Then one evening, I came home late from work 

and spotted a familiar figure outside my 

apartment complex. 

He stood beneath a streetlight in a dark gray 

jacket, holding something in one hand. 

When he saw me get out of a cab, he started 

toward me, then stopped. 

It was Nathan. 

He had lost a lot of weight. His cheekbones stood 

out sharply, and dark stubble shadowed his jaw. 

He looked at me, his lips moving as though he had 

a hundred things he wanted to say. 

In the end, all he managed was, “Vivian.” 

I didn’t stop. 

I walked past him with my laptop bag, tapped my 

key fob at the gate, and went inside. 

He called my name behind me, but his voice was 

soft and disappeared into the evening breeze. 

I never looked back. 

The gate clicked shut behind me. I stepped into 

the elevator and pressed my floor. 

As the doors slowly closed, I could still see 

Nathan standing beneath the streetlight, his 

shadow stretching long across the pavement. 

When I got home, I set down my laptop bag, 

slipped into my house shoes, washed an apple, 

and leaned against the kitchen counter to eat it. 

My phone buzzed. 

A text had come in from a number I didn’t 

recognize. 

Unknown number: [I’m sorry.] 

I looked at it for two seconds, deleted the 

message, blocked the number, and took another 

bite of my apple. 

Around that time, I had just been promoted. 

After I finished leading the project for a homegrown brand, the client renewed its annual 

contract with us, and the company gave me a 

small team of my own. 

I had been there less than a year and had already 

been promoted twice. Some people said I was an 

outsider management had fast–tracked. Others 

whispered in the break room that I must have had 

connections. 

I never bothered explaining myself. 

At the quarterly review, I put my performance 

numbers up on the big screen and walked 

everyone through them one by one. 

After that meeting, the whispers got a lot quieter. 

My boss texted me afterward. 

Boss: [I like your style.] 

Me: [] 

The day I got promoted, I took Dana out to dinner. 

Afterward, we walked for a while. 

It was a chilly late–fall evening. Ginkgo leaves. covered the sidewalk, crunching beneath our feet. 

Out of nowhere, Dana said, “You know, I’ve handled a lot of divorces and property disputes. You’re the only client I’ve ever had who never once cried in front of me through the entire case.” 

I thought about it. 

“I cried at home.” 

“When?” 

“The night I moved. I was packing and found my wedding photos. I cried once.” 

“I never cried again after that.” 

Dana didn’t say anything. 

She only patted my shoulder. 

That weekend, I went to a movie by myself. 

It was a comedy, and the theater was packed. 

Whenever the jokes landed, the whole room 

erupted in laughter. 

I sat there with a tub of popcorn, laughing along 

with everyone else, when my phone lit up. 

Someone had posted in the family group chat. 

It was one of my aunts. 

She said Chloe had been doing well in prison and might get a few months taken off her sentence for good behavior. 

No one replied. 

I dismissed the notification and kept watching the 

movie. 

By the time I came out, it was dark. 

Fireworks were going off over the plaza outside the mall. I had no idea what they were celebrating. 

I stood in the crowd and watched for a while. 

One burst after another opened across the sky in 

gold and red, lighting up half the sky. 

The evening breeze moved through the treetops, 

carrying that particular chill that only comes in 

late fall. 

In my first life, when I overdosed on sleeping pills 

in the apartment I was renting, I thought that was 

it for me. 

My own sister had framed me. Nathan’s family 

had humiliated me. Someone in my own family had slapped me in public. Strangers all over the 

internet had torn me apart. 

Back then, I thought my life was over. 

I never imagined I would get another chance. 

I could still take a walk by myself on a weekend 

evening. 

I could still hear leaves rustling in the wind. 

I could still feel like I had a whole life ahead of me. 

When I got home, I turned on the show I had been following. 

After sixty–three episodes of misery, the female 

lead had finally reached the finale. 

She had taken her company public, and at the 

celebration party, she raised a glass of 

champagne and said, “Thank you to everyone who 

ever looked down on me. You showed me just 

how strong I really am.” 

The comment feed lit up with viewers cheering her 

1. on. 

I picked up the remote and turned off the TV. 

It was painfully cheesy, but she had a point. 

Outside, a row of streetlights cast the maple trees 

around the complex in gold. 

November nights were getting chilly, but the heat had kicked on, and the apartment was warm. 

I pulled the blanket higher, closed my eyes, and ran through the next day’s schedule. 

I had a project meeting at nine. 

I had a meeting with a new client at ten–thirty. 

I had lunch with my team. 

I had an interview with a prospective intern at three. 

The day was packed, but none of it felt like more than I could handle. 

The hardest people to deal with were behind me. 

So were the hardest days. 

Only good days lay ahead.