Losing Baby to His Schemes

Brendan Cook and Violette Martinez eventually wrapped up what they were doing about twenty minutes later. During this time, I had been watching them, gripping the seat so tightly that my fingers started to bleed. Violette leaned against Brendan, catching her breath.

Suddenly, she picked up a leather-bound journal from the center console. "What's this?"

I recognized it immediately—it was the journal where I recorded all the important details. Our seventh wedding anniversary was approaching, and Brendan had promised to take me on a trip to the Alps that day. I'd been carefully planning the itinerary, noting every detail in that journal.

"This belongs to Mackenzie," Brendan said quietly.

"Aren't we supposed to go to the Alps?" she asked, flipping through the pages. "She's got all the itineraries here, free of charge. Saves us the trouble."

I froze. So that was the plan—using my journal to plan a trip with someone else. I stared at Brendan, searching for any hint of regret in his eyes. But there was nothing. Not a single trace.

Violette laughed, "Imagine if Mackenzie finds out you're doing this behind her back; she'd blow a gasket."

Brendan pinched her waist playfully and chuckled, "She'll never find out."

But I have. Brendan, I heard everything.

As the car started moving, I had no choice but to lie down to keep steady. All I could hear was their flirty banter. Brendan and I have been together for seven years. In all that time, he's been distant and closed off, the type who rarely speaks. At home, his words to me rarely exceed ten sentences. Only now do I realize that his silence was reserved just for me.

I clutched my stomach, shaking with sobs. The amethyst pressed painfully into the palm of my hand. I had loved him quietly for three years, been married for seven. A whole decade.

How do I break free?