Chapter 4

In the end, Fern was left behind, alone, in Los Angeles.

The moment Ralph heard I wanted to break up, his face went dark.

He didn't hesitate. He told Fern, right then, that he wouldn't keep helping with her treatment.

"Find yourself another doctor."

"If one can't fix it, see several more. Money's no issue for your parents."

He let Fern cry herself into a wreck.

And he took my hand and didn't look back.

See?

So there was another way to solve it after all.

When he'd first agreed to help Fern, how much of it was genuinely wanting to help?

And how much was some quiet, wistful want he'd tucked away?

I didn't know.

On the flight home, he reached for my hand.

I pulled it away again.

Something in my chest felt filmed over, tacky and clinging.

He was quiet a long time, then said in a low voice, "Millicent, I'll cut it off with her completely."

I closed my eyes. All I could hear was Fern's last scream ringing in my ears.

"Ralph, you bastard! You threw me over for her, and I will never forgive you as long as I live!"

Home, I packed up everything I owned.

Went straight to Monica's to stay.

He messaged every day. I didn't reply.

He camped outside the firm, so I called the police.

His eyes went red. "Millicent, you were never like this before."

"Don't treat me this way. I'm begging you."

The next morning I opened the door and found him asleep, curled up in the corner.

Still clutching the breakfast he'd bought me.

I looked at the dark hollows under his eyes.

Something wrung hard at my chest.

How did we... end up like this?

That day I called in sick and sat on the couch, gone somewhere far off.

The tears didn't feel like mine anymore. They ran and dried, dried and ran, on their own.

Monica came home from work, saw me, and snapped.

"Millicent, can you please wake up? He's like that and you still won't break it off?"

I opened my mouth to answer, and a wave of nausea rolled up out of nowhere.

I bolted for the toilet, gagging.

Monica's face did something complicated, and she went and bought me a pregnancy test.

Two red lines.

I stared at that tiny little window.

My hand shook so hard the plastic stick almost slipped out of it.

Pregnant.

Ralph's child.

Every hesitation I had was split open by that bolt from the sky.

I covered my face. I thought maybe I'd just forgive him. But the footage on Fern's account clung to me like a ghost.

Tears leaked out between my fingers.

Monica dragged a hand through her hair, then grabbed me and hauled me toward the door.

"Come on! I refuse to believe you're really unlucky enough to be carrying that bastard's kid!"

And walked straight into Ralph, waiting outside the door.

His eyes were frighteningly bright. "Millicent, I heard."

"We're having a baby! Aren't we? Don't even think about hiding it from me."

"Ralph, I don't plan to—"

"Plan to what?" He tensed all at once and seized my hand.

"Don't say you'll get rid of it. Don't say that. Millicent, I'm begging you."

His voice started to shake. "I know I was wrong. I've cut Fern off for good!"

"I swear I'll never see her again as long as I live! Keep this baby, and let's get married. Please?"

I looked at him, my body trembling faintly.

His throat worked, up and down, and his voice caught.

"Millicent, you love the sea. Let's hold the wedding in the Caribbean. Please?"

"That white chapel you mentioned once, I'll book the whole thing. You won't have to worry about a single thing."

"All you have to do is be the most beautiful bride and let me marry you."

I opened my mouth.

"...Let me think about it."

He nodded hard. "Take your time. As long as you need. Just don't give up on me and the baby."

That night he slept on the floor by the bed, his arms around my feet.

He didn't dare climb in, afraid I'd be angry.

I looked at his back curled on the carpet, my hand on my belly, and didn't close my eyes all night.

The next day I finished my checkup at the hospital.

Then a message came in from a number I didn't know.

【Leave him. He doesn't deserve you.】

I opened the video. The shot was inside the Los Angeles airport.

Fern grabbed hold of Ralph, and the two of them argued for a few seconds.

Then she went up on her toes and kissed him.

Ralph pushed her away, but not hard.

A few seconds later he had her pinned behind a pillar, kissing her fierce and rough.

At the end, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into the VIP lounge at the far end.

When they came back out, there was a kiss mark on Fern's neck.

Grinning, she buckled his belt for him.

The timestamp in the top left corner was ten hours before he learned I was pregnant.

I stared at the screen and laughed out loud.

I called my doctor friend. "Yes, I want to schedule the abortion. Three days from now."

-

A month later.

The Caribbean. The white chapel.

Sea wind poured across the altar. Ralph stood in a custom-tailored suit, a bouquet of white roses in his hands.

The pews were full of guests. His parents smiled and made small talk with friends and family.

Ralph's face was all smiles.

This past month, Millicent had probably come around, figured she couldn't live without him.

That was why she'd been so soft, so easy about all of it.

Trying on the gown when he asked, choosing the ring when he asked.

Not fighting his kisses, cooking dinner and waiting for him when he came home.

And now, at last, he was going to marry Millicent and bring her home.

The pastor glanced at his watch. "Mr. Sanchez, the hour's almost past. Where's the bride?"

He dialed her right away.

Phone off.

Dialed again.

Still off.

He pulled a smile onto his face and reassured everyone. "It's fine. Traffic's probably bad today."

When he looked up, the party sent to bring the bride was rushing back from the hotel.

Ralph hurried over to meet them, thrilled. "There you are! There you are!"

But his best friend Jim Gilbert was ashen.

He shoved something into Ralph's hand in a rush.

"Ralph, there's no one in the room! This was all that was on the nightstand—"

Ralph lowered his head.

It was a payment receipt. For an abortion.