Look My Way

Rick Smith, Zayne’s assistant, showed up at the lab the next afternoon.

“Mrs. Ford, Mr. Ford would like to have dinner with you tonight. Season Restaurant at seven.”

Season Restaurant.

The name hit me like a stone.

That was the place I’d waited for him on our first anniversary—five hours alone, the candles melting down to nothing.

He never showed.

I hesitated, then nodded. “Tell him I’ll be there.”

That evening, the restaurant glowed with golden light.

Zayne was already seated by the window, in a charcoal suit and gold-rimmed glasses. He looked up as I walked in, smiling faintly—like everything between us had just been a misunderstanding we could smooth over with dinner.

“Wendy.”

The way he said my name still made my heart stutter.

Even now, after everything, I still reacted like a fool in love.

He stood and pulled out my chair, his manners perfect, distant.

I sat, forcing my shaking hands into my lap.

He studied me for a moment, his voice low. “Wendy, I wanted to talk to you.”

I looked up, searching his eyes. “About what?”

He hesitated. His fingers brushed his glass. “I know I’ve neglected you lately… but about Jane and me—”

The phone on the table buzzed.

Rick’s name flashed across the screen.

Zayne answered. “Rick, what is it?”

“Sir,” Rick’s voice came through, tense, “Ms. Dunn just tried to slit her wrists.”

The world stopped.

Zayne’s chair scraped back violently. “What?! Where is she?”

He didn’t look at me again.

Not once.

As he rushed toward the door, I whispered, “Zayne, just go.”

He paused, guilt flickering across his face. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

But promises didn’t mean anything anymore.

He left.

And the moment the door closed, my body went cold. The air felt too thin to breathe.

Then—darkness.

When I opened my eyes, the ceiling was white, the air sharp with antiseptic.

A hospital room.

Rick stood near the bed, talking to a doctor.

When the doctor saw me stir, he turned. “Mrs. Ford, you’re awake.”

My hand went instinctively to my stomach.

Would he tell them?

The doctor cleared his throat. “You’re weak, you need rest. And also, you’re preg—”

Cold sweat broke out on my back.

“Please,” I whispered quickly, “don’t tell anyone. Not even him.”

The doctor looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. “Of course. It’s your choice.”

Just then, Rick’s phone rang again.

“Yes, sir,” he said and stepped out.

When he came back, his tone was brisk. “Mr. Ford has an emergency. He won’t be coming. He asked me to leave this for you.”

He placed a credit card on the side table.

“If you need anything, use that.”

Then he was gone.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

The nurses whispered outside my room, their voices slicing through the quiet.

“That Ms. Dunn is so lucky—Mr. Ford comes every day.”

“He even cooks for her himself! I heard she’s carrying his heir.”

“Three months pregnant, can you imagine? He dotes on her.”

Each word was a blade.

The wife they were talking about wasn’t Jane.

It was me.

But no one knew.

Because Zayne never let them know.

Three days later, I was discharged.

The first place I went wasn’t home.

It was the courthouse.

When the clerk handed me the stamped divorce decree, my hands trembled, but I didn’t cry.

Not anymore.

Five years of silence had already dried up all my tears.

Outside the building, snow had started to fall—light, cold, endless.

I looked up, feeling one flake melt against my skin.

I opened my phone and booked a courier. The official documents would be sent to Zayne’s office.

But I set the delivery date for three days later.

By the time he received them, I’d already be gone—

thousands of miles away, where the air didn’t taste like betrayal.

I pressed a hand over my stomach and whispered softly,

“We’ll start over, little one. Somewhere he can never find us.”

The morning I was set to leave for Nord, I sent an email to my supervisor.

I hesitated before adding the last line—

I’m pregnant.

For a few minutes, I just stared at the blinking cursor, wondering if this would change everything.

Would they still want me?

Would they see me as a burden?

Then his reply came almost instantly.

“My goodness, Wendy! That’s wonderful news! Congratulations! Don’t worry about a thing—I’ll arrange your accommodation, prenatal checkups, everything. Someone will meet you at the airport and take you straight to your new home.”

The words blurred before my eyes.

No judgment. No disappointment.

Just kindness.

For the first time in months, I felt safe.

Safe enough to cry.

When I packed that morning, I chose a loose cotton dress—something soft, something that could hide the small swell of my belly.

Each fold of fabric felt like a goodbye.

Goodbye to the girl who waited.

Goodbye to the wife who begged.

Goodbye to the woman who kept loving a man who had already stopped.

At the airport, a young man waved as soon as he saw me.

“Wendy Morgan?”

He had warm hazel eyes and a smile that felt like sunlight.

“Hi, I’m Shaun Rivers,” he said, taking my suitcase before I could refuse. “Welcome to Nord’s research program. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

He spoke with a quiet confidence that eased my nerves.

It was my first time leaving home alone—and I wasn’t alone anymore.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

Shaun smiled. “You’ve done enough thanking for a lifetime. Just breathe, Wendy. I’ll handle everything.”

While we waited near the gate, I suddenly froze.

A voice I knew better than my own broke through the crowd.

“Jane, be careful.”

My heart stopped.

Zayne.

I turned instinctively, and there he was—tall, composed, walking beside Jane Dunn.

Her hand rested on her belly.

His gaze was protective, gentle.

I ducked my head so fast I nearly dropped my passport.

“Zayne,” Jane’s voice rang out, sweet and casual. “I want to try that new café. Come with me?”

He hesitated. “Wait, I thought I heard—Wendy—”

My pulse thundered in my ears. I bent lower, pretending to fix my luggage.

Don’t see me. Please, don’t see me.

Jane tugged his arm. “She’s probably at the lab. You’ll just distract her. Come on, Zayne.”

And just like that, he let her pull him away.

I exhaled shakily, my chest tight with something that wasn’t quite relief and not quite sorrow.

He hadn’t even looked twice.

I watched their figures disappear into the crowd, realizing how strange it was—

how, even at the end, it was Jane who helped me escape.

“Wendy?” Shaun’s voice pulled me back. “It’s time for security.”

I nodded, clutching my passport.

At the checkpoint, Shaun handed me a small postcard.

“Here. You can mail this home once you settle in. Just so they know you’re safe.”

The photo showed a vast glacier—blue and endless.

A new world.

I smiled faintly and dropped it into the trash.

“I don’t have anyone to send it to.”

On the plane, Shaun double-checked everything for me, kind and professional.

“The lab’s already prepared your workspace,” he said. “And your new place is near the research center. Just focus on your health, okay?”

I nodded, trying to hold back the tears.

Because in four years of marriage, Zayne Ford had never once said those words to me.

When the plane began to move, I looked out the window.

The city stretched beneath the clouds—cold, glittering, beautiful, and full of ghosts.

I pressed my hand gently over my stomach.

“Zayne Ford,” I whispered, “we’re truly over.”

The engines roared, and for the first time, I didn’t flinch.

The city grew smaller, then vanished entirely beneath the clouds.

And just like that, I was free.