An hour before my wedding, I stood barefoot in the bridal suite of St. Andrew’s Chapel, one hand pressed against the small of my back and the other resting protectively on my swollen belly. At seven months pregnant, even standing still felt like work. My body was heavy, slow, constantly reminding me that another life depended on me now.
A sharp pain flickered across my stomach and faded again. I breathed through it and leaned against the vanity.
Emily, my maid of honor, had gone downstairs to check the flowers, and my mom was in the reception hall rearranging place cards for the third time that morning. For the first time all day, I was alone.
Then I heard Ethan’s voice in the hallway.
I smiled automatically. We weren’t supposed to see each other before the ceremony, but Ethan always joked about traditions like that. I assumed he was nervous, maybe coming to steal a quick look at me before everything began.
I moved toward the door, already planning to tease him.
But just as my fingers touched the handle, another voice joined his. Connor. Ethan’s best man.
Ethan laughed quietly and said, “After today, it won’t matter anymore.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.
Connor sounded hesitant. “Are you really going to do it?”
Ethan exhaled like a man tired of repeating himself.
“What other choice do I have? Her father already paid half the deposit on the apartment. And once the baby’s born, she’ll be too busy to ask questions.”
The air vanished from my lungs.Connor lowered his voice, but I still heard the next word clearly.
