Played Dad, Lost Me

Her voice wasn't loud, but it hit like a bomb in my chest.

I snapped my head up and shoved him off me.

Stared him down, hoping—begging—for something. Anything.

But he just looked away, eyes on the floor. Guilty as hell.

I pointed at Rainee, my voice shaking. "So it's true? You married her? Then what about me? What about our baby? You're ditching your own kid to play dad to one that doesn't even know who their real father is?"

Before I could even finish, Rainee started sobbing. "My baby's not a bastard! He has a dad!"

Quentin freaked out.

Then—he slapped me.

The crack echoed. My cheek lit up like fire.

He looked at me like I was nothing. Pulled his hand back like it didn't just hit me.

His eyes were cold, disgusted. "Vivienne Watson, have you completely lost it? Do you even realize how much damage your words could do to Rainee?"

I didn't know how much it could hurt her. All I knew was Quentin wasn't the guy I used to love.

I wiped the blood off my lip, the metallic taste thick in my mouth.

Every time it came to Rainee, he lost it.

My voice cracked. "What do you want me to say? My fiancé ditched me and our baby. He's playing house with someone else and raising her kid. You want me to throw confetti or something?"

I couldn't hold back anymore. My voice rose, raw and sharp.

Quentin paused—just for a second. Guilt flickered in his eyes.

Then he said, calm like this was some logical deal, "Rainee's not like you. I'm all she's got. She can't handle the gossip. Just wait, Vivienne. After she has the baby, I'll marry you."

He pulled me in like that was a promise. "Trust me. A year from now, I'll give you the wedding you deserve."

I didn't say a word.

Then Rainee cut in, annoyed. "Quentin, the baby's hungry. Let's go home."

His body stiffened. But he didn't hesitate.

He let me go, patted my head, and walked off with her—leaving me standing there.

Watching them disappear, it hit me. Love and indifference? They're not that hard to tell apart.

***

After the checkup, I went home.

Alone.

The place felt like a freezer.

I showered, crawled into bed, completely out of it.

Then the door clicked. Quentin's voice drifted in, tired. "Your hair's wet. You'll catch a cold."

I didn't budge.

He sighed, picked me up, and sat me in front of the vanity.

The hair dryer whirred to life. He ran his fingers through my hair, drying it.

Still, I said nothing.

"What's wrong? Still mad about today?" he asked. "Didn't I say I'd marry you after this is all sorted?"

He knew exactly where to dig.

He leaned in, warm breath brushing my ear. Goosebumps.

I bit back. "What if I say no?"

His face shifted, all shadow. "I'm not asking—I'm telling you how it is."

Then came the switch—softer, like that made it better. "Rainee's got no one. I'm all she has. I can't just ditch her."

He grabbed a suitcase and started throwing stuff in.

Didn't take long before it was packed and ready.

At the door, he turned. "Her morning sickness is bad. I'll stay a few days. Call if you need something."

The suitcase clicked over the threshold.

That's when I felt the tears.

So this was it.

He knew I had no one. Knew I was sick, sleepless, wrecked.

He just didn't care.

Next to Rainee, I was nothing.