Chapter 2- Broken Pieces

Stephanie's POV 🌸

As I stepped out of the mansion that had once been our home, I couldn't help but feel like a stranger in my own life. The air was thick with sorrow and regret, but I was determined not to let Dylan see my pain.

With a heavy heart, I spent the next 24 hours packing up my personal belongings. Each item I placed in boxes felt like a piece of my shattered life, a painful reminder of what I had lost. The memories of our love story, from that fateful coffee shop encounter to our dreamlike wedding, haunted me as I moved from room to room.

Dylan's cold ultimatum echoed in my mind, a constant reminder of his anger and betrayal. But I refused to let him break me further. I had to be strong, for myself, and for the future I had yet to discover.

As I finished packing, I took one last look around the mansion, a place that had once been filled with laughter and love. With a deep breath, I walked away, leaving it all behind.

I moved into a small apartment, a stark contrast to the life of luxury I had known. But I was determined to make it on my own, to prove that I didn't need anyone's wealth or support to survive.

Days turned into weeks, and I slowly rebuilt my life. I found a job, made new friends, and started to piece together the fragments of my shattered heart. But the pain of Dylan's accusations and betrayal still lingered, a scar that refused to fade.

As I navigated this new chapter of my life, I couldn't help but wonder about the video that had torn us apart. Who had orchestrated such a cruel scheme to destroy our marriage? I was determined to uncover the truth and clear my name, no matter what it took.

But for now, I focused on finding my strength, rediscovering my identity, and building a life that was wholly mine. The road ahead was uncertain, but I was determined to prove that I was more than the accusations and betrayal that had torn my world apart.

Despite the emotional turmoil that had engulfed my life, I forced myself to go job hunting. Weakness plagued me, both physically and emotionally, but I knew I had to fend for myself. My small apartment and kind landlord, who had accepted my initial payment, relied on me finding a source of income.

After several interviews, I landed a job as a waitress at a cozy coffee shop. It was a small victory that brought a glimmer of hope. I had made a new friend during the interview process – Reah. We had both been interviewed on the same day and were hired together.

My first day at work arrived, and I was determined to prove myself. I stood on my feet, serving customers and working diligently until the coffee shop closed its doors at 10 p.m. The next morning, my manager instructed me to start work at 8 a.m. sharp, and I obliged.

As I went about my tasks, the discomfort I had been feeling intensified. My stomach churned with pain, and I began to feel weak and dizzy. At first, it was manageable, but as time passed, it became unbearable. I couldn't ignore it any longer.

Concerned, Reah approached me, her voice filled with worry. "Steph, are you okay?" she asked, her eyes reflecting genuine concern.

I shook my head weakly, unable to hide my distress. She led me to a vacant seat behind the counter and handed me a bottle of water, telling me to sip it slowly.

She touched my temple and exclaimed, "Oh, shit, Steph, you're burning up!"

I laid my head on a table next to me, feeling utterly drained. "I feel so weak," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

Reah was quick to act. "You need to go to the hospital," she declared firmly.

I hesitated, not wanting to burden my manager or lose a day's pay. "I can't, Reah," I mumbled, my weakness making it difficult to form coherent thoughts.

But she insisted, "Steph, it doesn't matter. You're sick, and there's nothing he can do. I'm going to talk to our manager about your condition. You need medical attention."

With those words, Reah rushed off to speak with our manager, leaving me behind, grateful for her kindness and concern. I knew that I couldn't continue to ignore the signs of my deteriorating health, and perhaps seeking help was the first step in rebuilding the life that had been shattered by betrayal and accusations.

Reah returned with determination in her eyes, having successfully convinced our manager that I needed immediate medical attention. He reluctantly agreed but insisted that I must make up for the time lost with overtime once I was better. I nodded, grateful that he had relented, even if just a little.

We hailed a cab and headed to the hospital. The journey felt long, but Reah's comforting presence eased my anxiety.

At the hospital, a kind doctor named Gina attended to me. She asked about my symptoms and, when she learned that I hadn't eaten, immediately expressed concern. She wasted no time checking my vitals, her demeanor reassuring and professional.

As Gina turned to gather some supplies, Reah leaned closer to me and said, "Steph, I'm going to get you some food."

I managed a weak but heartfelt thank you as Reah hurried away. Left alone with Doctor Gina, my apprehension returned. She fixed me with a knowing gaze and asked, "Do you know if you're pregnant?"

I was taken aback, my mind racing. "I'm not pregnant," I responded, convinced that it couldn't be true.

Doctor Gina continued to study me and then asked, "Have you been experiencing symptoms that might suggest pregnancy?" She gestured to my overall condition, my fatigue, weakness, and heavy breathing.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to make sense of her question. "Well, yes," I finally admitted. "I've been feeling incredibly tired and weak."

With a small smile tugging at her lips, Doctor Gina delivered the unexpected news, "You're about two weeks pregnant."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My hand instinctively went to my flat tummy, as if trying to deny the truth. "What? No, no, no," I repeated, shock and disbelief coursing through me.

Doctor Gina reassured me gently, "You'll be fine, Stephanie, and your baby is fine too. But right now, you need to get some food into your system and rest. It's crucial for both of you."