Episode1
Stephanie pov
"Welcome my fiancée, Natasha Scott."
Those words stopped me cold before I even reached the entrance.
I hadn't stepped into the hall yet, but Kain's voice through the mic carried all the way to the parking lot — clear, proud, and devastating. My legs refused to move. My chest refused to breathe.
I staggered back to my car and leaned against it, clutching the hospital envelope tightly against my chest like it was the only solid thing left in my world.
Then the MC's voice boomed again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the multi-million dollar deal with Brown's Company has been finalized! Please welcome Mr. Kain and his fiancée, Natasha Scott, to the dance floor!"
Applause erupted from inside the hall.
I slid down slowly against my car until I hit the cold ground, the envelope still crushed in my grip. With shaking fingers, I opened it one last time — staring at the result I had carried here as a surprise.
Positive.
Five years. Five long years of marriage to Kain Mark, and the moment I finally had something worth celebrating — he was inside that hall, dancing with another woman he called his fiancée.
I squeezed the paper in my fist.
The cheers from inside grew louder.
And I sat alone on the parking lot floor, in the dark, with news that was supposed to change everything — and now meant nothing at all.
I don't know how long I sat there. My eyes had grown heavy, my body exhausted from carrying a weight no one could see.
The cold from the ground had seeped through my dress, and my fingers had gone numb around the crumpled paper. The music from inside had softened to a distant hum, but I hadn't moved. I couldn't.
Then the doors burst open.
I was reaching down to pick up the envelope — brushing the dust from it carefully, like it still deserved to be handled with care when camera flashes lit up the night like lightning. The press swarmed the entrance all at once. I scrambled to my feet, smoothing my dress out of instinct.
That was when I saw him.
Kain. My husband.
He walked out like he owned the world. Tailored suit, chin raised, one hand resting comfortably on the small of her back. Natasha stood draped in red beside him, laughing softly at something he had whispered in her ear. The cameras loved them. The crowd loved them and the ease of it, the familiarity, told me tonight was not the first time. They had been showing up together. To events. To rooms full of people.
And I had been too blind to see it.
I moved forward before my mind could stop me.
"Kain."
My voice came out smaller than I intended. He slowed. His jaw tightened — that subtle shift I had spent five years learning to read, the one that meant something had irritated him. Then he turned and looked at me.
For one second, just one, I searched his eyes for the man I had married.
He wasn't there.
"Kain, please… I need to talk to you. Just a minute. I know this isn't the right time but please, we really need to talk."
I reached for his arm. He stepped aside smoothly, like I was a stranger who had bumped into him on the street, pulling Natasha closer in the same motion.
"Not now, Stephanie," he said, straightening his suit.
"Please—"
"I said not now." His voice dropped — low, sharp, final. Around us, a few reporters had already turned their lenses in our direction, sensing something. He noticed. His expression hardened further.
"Walk away," he said through his teeth. "Don't do this here. This event means a lot to me."
"Then when?" My voice cracked open. "You won't answer my calls. You won't come home. Kain, I came here tonight because I have something important to tell you, something you've been waiting for—"
"Stephanie!"
His voice cracked like a whip across the night air. The chatter around us died instantly. Every camera and every eye. All of it turned toward us.
The silence was suffocating.
He turned to face me fully, and I almost wished he hadn't. There was no guilt in his eyes, no trace of the five years we had built together.
"It's over," he said. Quiet. Certain. "I should have said it sooner. I'm done."
I let out a soft, broken laugh — not because anything was funny, but because my chest didn't know what else to do with the pain.
"Done," I repeated.
Beside him, Natasha's eyes settled on me cool and steady. She reached up and flipped her hair back, then wrapped both hands around Kain's arm like she was planting a flag.
"Done with the marriage. Done with—" he gestured loosely in my direction, "— all of these wasted years." He exhaled slowly, like a man finally setting down something heavy. "Natasha is my future. I know that now."
I looked at her. She looked away and somehow, that was worse than anything she could have said.
"Five years, Kain."A tear slipped free before I could catch it. "I gave you five years of my life. And you're ending it like this — in a parking lot, in front of cameras?"
Something crossed his face. For just a moment, I thought it was a shame.
It wasn't.
He gently removed Natasha's hands from his arm and stepped closer to me, close enough that only I could hear what came next.
"You want the truth?"* His voice was barely above a whisper. *"What you couldn't give me in five years of marriage…..Natasha gave me in one night."
The air left my lungs.
He held my gaze, making sure every word landed before he finished.
"She's pregnant, Stephanie. Two weeks."
The envelope slipped from my fingers.
I didn't feel it fall. I didn't feel much of anything, just a strange hollow ringing that started in my chest and spread outward until my whole body felt like an empty room echoing with nothing.
Two weeks.
Kain turned away from me and kissed Natasha softly on the temple. The crowd erupted. A ribbon fell away beside them, revealing a sleek white car gleaming under the lights.
"It's all yours, honey," he said softly, his hand sweeping toward it.
Natasha gasped, pressing her perfectly manicured hands to her lips. The cameras flashed wildly. Everyone cheered.
And I stood there, invisible, my pregnancy result face down on the cold ground at my feet. A joy I had carried here as a gift. A surprise I had rehearsed a hundred times on the drive over.
Now I couldn't even bring myself to pick it up.
"I will never return here again."
The words left me in a whisper. No one heard them.
But I meant every single one.
