Chapter 5
The word "babe" coming from him made my skin crawl.
"What if I don't want to?"
Chuck didn't even blink before deciding to get rid of our child. Suddenly, I wondered if maybe being infertile had been a blessing—at least my child wouldn't be born into this mess.
"Babe—"
"Just kidding." I smiled, pressing into his chest. "The doctor said I still can't have kids. Thanks for sticking around."
And thanks—for everything you did to me.
***
The weekend hit fast. Chuck got up early, kissed my cheek, and whipped up three dishes and a soup like a man on a mission.
"Yasmine, I'm taking Mom and Dad out. Stay safe, okay? Call if anything happens."
I nodded, tears sliding down as I unlocked my phone.
Sharon was outside. I'd gotten the pic before Chuck even woke up—her, kicked back in a car, smug as hell.
The messages?
[Yasmine, so what if you married him? I'm the one having his baby.]
[You really think they're headed to the villa to mourn me? Don't be stupid. I've been living there for years. ]
[Today's my prenatal checkup. I casually said I wanted the whole fam there—and just like six years ago, they all came running. A few fake tears and boom, they picked me again.]
[Your life's a joke.]
Attached were dozens of photos—Chuck with Sharon on trips, sometimes even with my parents. Sightseeing. Vacationing. Laughing.
And me? I used to light up over the tiny souvenirs he brought back.
The despair hit hard. I closed the chat and booked a flight for the next day.
Knowing Sharon, she wouldn't let them come home tonight. That gave me just enough time to disappear.
By noon, I forced down a few bites, then got to work. Sorting evidence. Stacking it all up.
Honestly? I had to thank her. If she hadn't gotten cocky, I wouldn't have this much dirt.
With this, I could leave Chuck with nothing.
And before I walked out for good, the world was going to see exactly who they really were.
***
By the time I was done, it was already 10 p.m.
No surprise—Chuck wasn't coming home. He called me on video. The camera was blurry, but I could feel her there. Sharon, probably just out of frame.
I didn't say anything. Just smiled and promised I'd take care of myself.
The next morning, I was up early. A crew showed up—contractors I'd hired. Anything I couldn't pack? I told them to rip it out.
As for the little trinkets Chuck gave me? I'd seen identical ones on Sharon's socials. Mine were just duplicates. Leftovers.
I didn't want any of it.
Two hours later, the team rolled out with truckloads of stuff. I sat down with a lighter and pulled out every photo from the past few years—burned them one by one.
The fire alarm went off, screaming.
I grabbed my suitcase and walked out.
This was my goodbye gift to Chuck. By the time he made it back, I was already gone. Out of the house. Out of the city.
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