Truth Behind False Love

At my mother's funeral, my fiancé, Matt Moore, arrived with Kayla Wood to pay his respects.

In front of everyone, he announced that our engagement was over. He was going to marry Kayla instead.

As the whispers and laughter of the crowd swirled around me, Zach Hayden, my childhood friend, suddenly knelt on one knee and proposed. He said he had loved me for many years.

Moved by Zach's sincerity, I accepted his proposal.

For three years after our marriage, I remained childless. Each time the topic came up, Zach would reassure me gently that it didn't matter. As long as he had me, that was enough.

But not long after, I overheard a conversation between him and the family doctor.

"Mr. Hayden, I've prepared the contraceptives as you instructed. Should I continue giving them to your wife?"

His voice was cold and detached. "Yes. Don't stop. Marrying her was nothing more than a convenient arrangement. In my heart, only Kayla is worthy of being the mother of my child."

So, this marriage I thought was filled with happiness was nothing more than a carefully crafted lie.

Since he never loved me, I no longer wanted him either.

"I've prepared the contraceptives as you instructed. Should I continue giving them to your wife?" the family doctor asked.

Zach's voice was cold and detached. "Yes. Don't stop. Marrying her was nothing more than a convenient arrangement. In my heart, only Kayla is worthy of being the mother of my child."

There was a hint of tenderness in his expression, shadowed by regret. "Victoria's mother passed away. I gave up my marriage to protect Kayla. Even if it means I'll never become a father, I'm willing to accept that. In my heart, no one can replace Kayla—not even a child born to me and Victoria."

The doctor hesitated. "But long-term use of this kind of contraceptive can harm a woman's body. Even if she stops taking it, conceiving might become impossible."

For a moment, a trace of conflict flickered through Zach's eyes—brief and fleeting—before resolve hardened his expression.

"It doesn't matter. I'll take care of her for the rest of her life."

I stood outside the study door, my entire body numb. It felt as if I were barefoot in the snow, the chill seeping through my skin and settling deep in my bones.

He didn't notice me.

Somehow, I dragged myself back to the bedroom, but once inside, my strength failed. I collapsed onto the floor, as if the weight of everything had finally crushed me.

For three years, I had no children. I always thought the problem lay with me—my health had been fragile since childhood. I tried everything, including folk remedies, some so nauseating they made me want to vomit. But nothing worked.

I felt guilty. Yet, Zach always reassured me, saying it didn't matter if we had no children—having me was enough.

To keep me from suspecting anything, he never used protection. Every time, he let me believe