MY YES BETRAYED ME

CHAPTER2

THE SECOND BETRAYAL

Karen did not plan to go to the studio that day.

She still hadn’t slept properly. Every time she closed her eyes, fragments of last night returned. Her body felt wrong in a way she couldn’t name, and the bruise of shame sat heavy on her chest. Even with her baby moving quietly inside her, she didn’t feel safe in her own skin.

The thought crept up on her slowly after she woke up. It was persistent and impossible to ignore, the way fear is. She had tried to focus on her work, tried to lose herself in schedules and calls for her wedding prep, but George’s absence gnawed at her. He had promised her to be careful with Helen. He had promised her to be a responsible husband and father.

By midday, her chest felt tight, as if something inside her was pressing outward, demanding attention. The baby shifted gently, a soft reminder that she was no longer living for herself alone. Karen rested a hand on her stomach, inhaled deeply, and told herself she was overthinking. Still, she grabbed her bag.

The drive to the studio felt longer than usual. Traffic blurred past her, horns echoing like distant warnings. She kept replaying George’s voice in her head. His reassurances, his smiles, the way he always sounded sincere when he said the right things. She wanted to believe him. God, she needed to.

When she arrived, the building buzzed with activity. Assistants rushed by, voices overlapped, and laughter mixed with commands. It was familiar chaos, the kind Karen had navigated countless times. Normally, it grounded her.

But today, it didn’t. She walked down the corridor toward the set, her steps slowing as she drew closer. The air felt heavier and charged. She heard music at first, soft and romantic, but it couldn't calm her anxiety.

Then she saw them.

George stood near the lights, his hand resting on Helen’s waist. Too close, far too close. Helen tilted back her head slightly, smiling up at him, her fingers brushing his chest as if it were second nature. Karen froze, her body refusing to move as her mind scrambled to catch up.

“No, not like this.” The director’s voice echoed faintly in the background, calling for a take. Karen barely heard it. All she could see was George leaning in, his forehead brushing Helen’s, their laughter low and intimate.

Then it happened: George kissed her. It wasn’t rushed; it wasn’t accidental. It was slow, deliberate, and familiar.

Karen’s breath left her lungs in a sharp, silent gasp. The world tilted as her ears rang as if she had been struck in the head. She felt heat rush to her face, then drain away, leaving her cold and hollow.

Her hand flew to her stomach instinctively, as though shielding the child from what she was seeing.

"Was that what he called being careful?" She stammered barely.

Someone brushed past her, mumbling an apology, but Karen didn’t respond. Her legs felt weak, her knees threatening to give way. She forced herself to turn before anyone noticed her standing there, before George could see her.

She walked, not fast, not slow, just enough to keep herself upright. The moment she stepped outside, the noise of the studio faded behind her. Sunlight hit her face, too bright and too cruel. She reached her car and sat inside for a long moment without starting the engine, her hands gripping the steering wheel as her chest rose and fell erratically.

Tears blurred her sight, but she refused to let them fall. She held them back with courage.

"Not here," she muttered.

Her phone buzzed with a missed call from George, casual and careless. Now that she knew the truth, Karen laughed softly, a broken laughter that startled even her.

She drove out. She didn’t know where she was going at first. Her mind spun, thoughts crashing into one another. Betrayal, shame, fear and love that feel foolish now.

Somewhere along the way, her decision became clear. Caroline was her only hope; only she could talk to George.

If George couldn't keep his promises to her, maybe his mother would finally see reasons to help her. Maybe this time, Karen wouldn’t be alone.

By the time she reached Caroline’s house, her hands were shaking. But she steadied herself and rang the bell.

When Caroline opened the door, her expression shifted briefly, surprise flickering before it hardened into something unreadable.

“Karen?” she said slowly.

“I need to talk to you,” Karen said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.

Caroline stepped aside, letting her in. The living room smelt faintly of expensive perfume and polished wood as always. Karen stood stiffly, her bag clutched against her side like a shield. Caroline studied her with sharp eyes, taking in her pale face and her rigid posture.

“What is this visit about?” Caroline asked coolly.

“George,” Karen replied. “And Helen,” she said and paused.

Caroline sighed, as though already tired of the conversation. “Karen, you know George’s work ….”

“I saw them,” Karen interrupted, her control cracking. “I saw him kiss her.”

Silence took over the space.

For a brief moment, Karen hoped; she truly hoped that Caroline would look shocked, angry and protective. But instead, Caroline’s lips pressed into a thin line.

"And?" she said nonchalantly.

Karen stared at her, disbelief washing over her. “I’m carrying his child,” she said quietly. “Your grandchild.”

Caroline’s gaze flicked briefly to Karen’s stomach before returning to her face. “George has always been popular,” she said. “That’s not something you change overnight.”

Something inside Karen broke.

“So that’s it?” she asked, her voice trembling. “That’s all you have to say?”

“I think you’re being dramatic,” Caroline replied. “Helen is refined. She understands George’s world. You ….” She paused. Her eyes narrowing slightly. “You complicate things.”

Karen felt the words like slaps.

“I came here hoping you would help,” Karen said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Caroline straightened. “What I want is what’s best for my son. Most wives have done worse things they can’t even tell their spouse, so let everyone have peace,” she barked, her voice cutting like glass.

Karen was numbed; her words struck her deeper than she realised. It felt like she was speaking directly to her hidden shame. Her mind flashed back to that forbidden night: the nakedness, the confusion, the silence. All Karen could do was stand there, staring and calming her emotions.

She tried to smile to hide her teary eyes. “Maybe you are right, Mom,” she replied, forcing a weak laugh.

Caroline nodded, with a little cold smirk on her lip, and turned back to the television.

Karen turned and walked out before the tears could spill, before she said something she couldn’t take back. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the house itself was pushing her away. But by the time she reached her car, the tears came freely.

She drove home in silence, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest. She got home, parked her car and sat there for minutes before finally allowing herself to collapse onto her bed, the strength she had been borrowing since she woke up finally gone.

As she lay there, staring at the ceiling, one truth settled painfully into her bones: she had never truly been protected in this love. And now, with a child on the way, the cost of that truth feels unbearable.