I swallowed my disappointment—an emotion I had grown far too accustomed to. Without a word, I stepped into the vehicle. Caleb shut the door behind me, and the journey home began in silence.
To distract myself, I reached for my phone. A notification appeared. A post on social media.
I tapped it open— and my world crumbled all over again.
A photograph.
Archie and Claire.
They stood side by side in front of a maternity hospital. She was smiling—radiant, joyful. Archie, though turned slightly away from the camera, was unmistakable. He held a newborn wrapped in white, his posture protective.
The caption beneath the image twisted the knife deeper.
[Welcome, our little son. The most beautiful gift of our lives.]
My hands trembled.
Archie wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
I had been clinging to a sliver of hope that somewhere, buried beneath all the cruelty, he still cared for me.
But I had been wrong.
Foolishly, painfully wrong.
I curled my fingers into fists. No more tears.
Not for the man who had destroyed me.