Chapter 1Eighteen years after the divorce, I ran into Blake Hartley 'cause our kids were dating.
The teacher kept us after everyone left, pulled out a love note, and pushed it toward him.
"Mr. Hartley, your son wrote this to Ivy. Look, I get it—they're teenagers. But with SATs two weeks away? This is the worst possible timing. You need to shut this down."
Blake didn't say a word. Just stared at me like he'd seen a ghost.
The teacher had to clear her throat twice before he snapped out of it and mumbled some half-assed apology.
Once we left the office, he stopped me at the stairs. Kept opening his mouth, closing it. Then finally:
"Ivy... she's yours?"
I nodded. Left it at that.
His face crumpled. "But you told me you'd never get married again. You swore."
---
Yeah, I did say that.
The day we signed the divorce papers, I swore I'd never remarry or have kids.
And technically? I kept that promise.
Ivy's adopted.
But he doesn't need to know that.
"Blake, you don't get to ask me that. We're done."
My tone was ice-cold now—done with this conversation.
Eighteen years had passed, and the cocky boy I used to know had turned into this polished, put-together man.
But his eyes—still sharp, still familiar—flashed with something I'd never seen before.
Guilt, maybe. Regret.
"I didn't mean it like that. I just... God, Jules, I've been wondering all these years if you were okay..."
"I'm fine."
I cut him off and looked past him toward the classroom door down the hall where some kid was tugging on a girl's sleeve, whispering something in her ear.
I frowned, ignored whatever else Blake was saying, and walked over.
When Ivy saw me coming, she panicked. "Mom—" Her head dropped so fast I thought her neck might snap.
The boy, though? Totally unfazed.
He straightened up and stuck out his hand with this easy confidence that made my stomach turn.
"Hey, Mrs. Morgan. I'm Chase. Chase Hartley."
Chase Hartley.
Of course. Blake and Scarlett's little love trophy.
I repeated the name in my head, then gave him the politest, coldest smile I could manage.
I remembered how excited Blake had been when I got pregnant all those years ago—stayed up all night scribbling down baby names like a crazy person. We were barely two months in, and he already had it all planned out.
He'd said if it was a boy, we'd name him something that tied us together forever. A girl? Same thing.
Back then, I used to daydream that no matter what, the baby would look just like him. Act like him. Be him.
Guess he got his wish after all. Just with someone else's kid.
Chase seemed like he wanted to chat, but I was already pulling Ivy toward the stairs, letting the crowd of students swallow us up.
No matter how hard I could feel Blake's eyes burning into my back, I didn't turn around.
On the drive home, Ivy was dead silent—slouched in her seat, wouldn't even glance my way. She knew exactly why the teacher had called us both in.
"You and him? Not happening. Break it off. Stop seeing him."
I finally said it at a red light, flat, no room for argument.
Ivy's head jerked up, tears already pooling in her eyes. "Mom, I promise it won't affect my grades—"
"This isn't about grades."
The light turned green and I eased onto the gas, kept my voice steady. "At your age? Love doesn't last."
"How do you know?" Her voice cracked, but for the first time in her life, she actually yelled at me. "Grandma told me you married your high school boyfriend. Your first love."
"So why was it okay for you, but not for me?!"
Chapter 2
I went quiet.
So did she.
The rest of the drive was just the hum of the engine and the sound of her sniffling in the passenger seat.
When we got home, Ivy finally worked up the nerve to push back.
"Mom, Chase is really good to me. I really like him. Can you please just stay out of it? I promise it won't mess with my grades, and I'm not gonna do anything stupid."
She took a breath. "And I know—I know—we're gonna have a great future together."
God, she sounded exactly like every other girl who's head-over-heels in love.
Watching her fight so hard to prove this was real... it was like looking in a mirror.
I remembered saying the exact same things to my own mom:
Blake's so good to me. I really like him. We're gonna have an amazing future together.
I'm willing to bet everything on him.
And I lost that bet.
Lost it bad.
"Sweetie, I used to think just like you. Look how that turned out."
I sighed and headed into the kitchen, rolled up my sleeves, and started prepping dinner.
That's when the scar peeked out—the one on my wrist from eighteen years ago, when I tried to end it all.
Ivy's eyes locked onto it. Her face crumpled.
"Mom... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
She stepped closer, voice soft. "You've never told me what happened back then. And you never let anyone get close to you, never even thought about dating again. But I'm older now. Can you tell me? What really happened?"
"I want to know."
She'd asked me about my past more than once over the years.
I always brushed it off. Told her I'd forgotten, that it'd been forever since I even thought about it.
But the second she asked again today, I realized—every single thing that happened eighteen years ago, every word, every moment—it was all still there. Crystal clear.
I hesitated for a second, then started talking. Started telling her the story I'd buried for eighteen years—
Blake and I? Yeah, we met senior year too.
Teenage love hits different. It's intense. Reckless.
And Blake back then? Way crazier than his son could ever be.
He brought me breakfast every single morning.
When kids at school called me trash for being poor, he'd throw punches without thinking twice.
Every day after school, he'd shove these handwritten love letters into my bag—stayed up all night writing them.
The wildest thing he ever did? Grabbed the mic right out of the principal's hand during a school assembly and confessed his feelings for me in front of everyone.
The sun was brutal that day. But somehow, he looked even brighter.
That's how Blake and I started dating.
A week before the SATs, Blake got into it with some guy from another class. When the dude turned around, Blake hit him. Hard. Messed up his leg bad.
It happened in a blind spot—no cameras, no proof.
So when the cops started asking questions, I stepped up and took the fall. Got detained for ten days.
Missed the SATs completely.
Ivy's face went red. "So that's why you only finished high school. You took the fall for him and missed your shot at college."
Her voice got louder. "And he just... what? Went and took his SATs like nothing happened?"
I shook my head.
At first, when Blake found out I'd covered for him, he wanted to turn himself in. But his parents threatened to kill themselves if he did. Literally said they'd rather die than see their son throw his future away.
So he caved. Took the SATs anyway.
The day he came to see me in juvie, he swore up and down he'd get into a good school, make something of himself, and give me the life I deserved.
Blake was a decent student. And somehow, he crushed those exams. Got into a solid university.
I wanted to be close to him, so I ditched the idea of retaking my SATs and just... followed him. Moved to his college town, got a job, helped pay his bills while he studied.
The year Blake graduated, I got pregnant.
Back then, having a baby before marriage? That was shameful.
But I didn't care. My parents were furious, told me not to do it, but I was so happy I ignored them and married into his family anyway.
No car to pick me up. No ceremony.
Hell, we didn't even have a real wedding.
Ivy's eyes went wide. "Wait—Mom, you had a baby? How come you never told me? Did he get custody after the divorce?"
A baby?
I touched my belly—flat, empty—the same way I used to eighteen years ago, back when I was careful, gentle, like I was holding something precious.
But now? All I could do was smile bitterly.
"She's gone."
My voice was quiet. "Seven months. That's all she got."
It was a girl. Just like Ivy.
If she were still here, she'd be in college by now.
Ivy froze for a second, then her face just crumpled. She threw her arms around me and held on tight.
"Mom, don't be sad. You still have me."
She pulled back, eyes searching mine. "But... seven months? What happened? How did you lose her?"
I tugged my sleeve down, covering the ugly scar on my wrist. My voice didn't shake.
"The day I found out he was cheating, he shoved me."
I paused. "I fell. And that was it."
Chapter 3
"Cheating?"
Ivy's hand flew to her mouth.
"You took the fall for him, gave up college, sacrificed everything—and he cheated on you? And he's the reason you lost your baby?"
Her voice cracked. "Who was she? Did you know her? Was she pretty?"
Her questions pulled me right back to that fall, eighteen years ago.
Just like Ivy, when I first realized Blake was cheating, I couldn't believe it either.
The woman's name was Scarlett Monroe. She was Blake's department head at work.
She wasn't even pretty. And she was seven years older than both of us.
Ivy's frown deepened. "Seven years older? What the hell was he thinking? He had you—young, gorgeous—and he went for some woman seven years older than him?"
I kept chopping vegetables, didn't stop. But the memory of catching Blake flashed through my mind and the knife slipped. Blood dripped onto the cutting board.
Ivy panicked, grabbed a Band-Aid, and pressed it onto my finger.
"Mom, you're bleeding so much. Does it hurt?"
I smiled. "It's nothing. Doesn't hurt."
I looked at the cut. "Compared to what I went through eighteen years ago? This is nothing."
Back then, Blake and I were newlyweds. Still in that honeymoon phase where everything felt perfect.
His marketing team threw parties almost every week—celebrating closed deals, new clients, whatever. He'd bring me along most of the time.
That's how I met Scarlett.
She knew I was pregnant, so she'd always sit next to me, make sure I was comfortable, ask how I was feeling.
We even exchanged numbers, talked about girl stuff. She felt like this sweet, caring older sister.
I actually really liked her back then. After those work parties, I'd tell Blake how nice she was, how sweet.
But every time I brought her up, he'd get this look on his face—like he was annoyed or something.
"Nice? She's plain as hell. Average body. Thirty years old and still single."
He'd shake his head. "The only reason she got promoted that fast is because of her Master's degree and her family's connections. She's not a good person, Jules. Stay away from her."
I didn't really agree with him, but I didn't argue either. I kept texting Scarlett, talking about random stuff, sharing bits of my day.
But then Blake stopped bringing me to those parties. Said my belly was too big, that it wasn't convenient anymore.
At first, I didn't think much of it. But then he started coming home later and later. "Working late" turned into his go-to excuse.
Pregnancy hormones didn't help. I started spiraling, convinced he was gonna leave me.
When Scarlett found out I was worried, she swore up and down she had my back.
"Jules, just relax and focus on the baby. I'm keeping an eye on him at work. No girl's getting anywhere near him, I promise."
She'd reassure me. "Stop overthinking. We've been slammed at work lately—everyone's putting in extra hours. And when Blake stays late? I'm there too. He's not out screwing around, trust me."
I did trust Blake. And hearing that from her made me feel so much better.
Until I hit seven months. Blake had been "working late" for six nights straight, and I finally couldn't take it anymore.
That night, I made him homemade chicken soup, grabbed the thermos, and waddled my pregnant ass to his office.
It was almost 10 p.m. The building was dead—barely any lights on.
I told the security guard who I was, and he let me in without a second thought.
The office floor was empty. Quiet. No sign of Blake at his desk.
But there was one office with the door cracked open, light spilling out into the hallway.
And inside, I could hear it—
Two voices. Breathing. Tangled together.
I knew those sounds.
I froze. Felt like I'd been struck by lightning.
I took a few more steps, peeked through the crack in the door, and saw them.
Blake and Scarlett. Kissing. Completely lost in each other.
That snapped me out of it.
I shoved the door open and lost it—screaming at the top of my lungs like a crazy person. No dignity, no control, just pure rage.
I was screaming at Blake, demanding to know why he'd do this to me.
But he didn't say a word. Didn't apologize. Just scrambled to grab his shirt and threw it over Scarlett, shielding her like she was the one who needed protecting.
When he looked at me, there wasn't a trace of guilt in his eyes. Just cold, hard anger.
"What the hell are you doing here?! Are you out of your mind?!"
His voice was sharp. "If someone hears you, how is Scarlett supposed to show her face at work after this?!"
