He took a long sip of coffee, staring out the window at the quiet street below. For the first time in years, he had no plans, no promises to keep, no one waiting for him. And yet somewhere under the dull ache, there was a flicker of relief. A strange kind of lightness that whispered, you did the right thing. " Later that day, he called the travel agency. "Yes," he said, "I'd like to confirm the trip.
Just remove the second guest name. " The agent hesitated. "You'll be traveling alone? " "Oh, yeah," Ethan replied, voice steady. "Think of it as a solo honeymoon. " When he hung up, he felt the smallest hint of a smile tug at his lips. He started packing that evening, folding shirts methodically, tossing the ring box into a drawer without looking at it. There were still messages from Layla, apologies, explanations, half-formed pleas, but he didn't open them.
Not yet. Maybe not ever. The next morning, he left for the airport before sunrise, suitcase rolling behind him, the sky still bruised with dawn. He didn't know what he'd find out there. Maybe just a little peace.
But for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt something close to hope. A week after the non-wedding, the apartment was finally starting to feel like his again. The flowers had wilted, the decorations were gone, and the silence was no longer heavy, just ordinary. Ethan was learning to live with ordinary. That afternoon, a soft knock echoed through the door.
At first, he thought it was a delivery, but when he opened it, his heart stalled. Layla stood there. She looked pale, exhausted, and in her shaking hand was a small plastic stick, a pregnancy test. "Ethan," she whispered, voice trembling. "I'm pregnant.
I think it's yours. " For a long second, Ethan didn't speak. Then he asked quietly, "You think, or you want me to think that? " She flinched, eyes darting away. "It must have happened weeks before the wedding," she said, tears spilling fast. "I wasn't sure how to tell you. " Ethan exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that lets the truth settle in. Her face, her timing, the way she couldn't meet his gaze, it told him everything he needed to know.
"Layla," he said softly, "I'm not angry, but I'm not stupid, either. You don't have to lie to me anymore. " Her lip trembled. "I just I don't know what to do. Mark won't answer my calls. He blocked my number, Ethan.
I have no one else. " She reached out, grabbing his wrist, desperate. "Please, just let me stay for a while. I'll figure it out. I promise. " Ethan looked down at her hand, at the same hand he'd once thought he'd hold forever. He gently pulled away.
"I'm not kicking you out," he said quietly. "You left on your own the moment you chose someone else. This isn't your home anymore. " "Ethan, please. " But the door had already begun to close. "Take care of yourself, Layla," he said through the crack. "And be honest, at least with yourself. " The click of the latch was soft, but final.