Chapter 4: Simone
1063 Words
POV: Isla
Dylan didn't move. He stood there, his jaw clenched, his eyes full of a mean, hard anger. He refused to unlock the screen.
"I don't have to show you anything," he hissed.
My hands were shaking, but the hot fury inside me took over. I didn't care about his anger anymore. I lunged forward and grabbed his right hand.
"Isla, stop it!" he shouted, trying to pull away.
He was stronger than me, but I had the weight of years of lies pushing me forward. I pushed past my usual conflict-avoidant nature and squeezed his wrist with all my strength, forcing his hand down toward the screen. He fought back, twisting his arm, but I managed to press his thumb flat against the glass sensor.
The phone vibrated as the home screen clicked open.
I ripped the device out of his grip and scrambled backward toward the kitchen sink. Dylan made a move to grab it, but I held it high out of his reach. My thumb frantically tapped on his messaging apps and his photo gallery.
The text messages were bad enough—months of scheduling hookups while I was at school, jokes about how clueless I was, and promises of a future together. But then I opened his hidden folder.
My stomach dropped into a deep, sick void. There were photos of them in expensive hotel rooms, laughing in bed together. There were nude videos of Simone, recorded in places Dylan told me he went for business trips. The dates on the videos matched the exact weekends I had been left alone at home, crying and wishing he would call me back.
I turned on Simone so fast she didn't have time to blink. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. The sound of my palm hitting her cheek was loud and sharp in the small kitchen.
"Isla!" Dylan shouted, stepping forward.
I didn't care. The tears finally broke, spilling hot down my face, but my voice was a raw, bleeding scream.
"After everything!" I cried, my chest heaving as I looked at Simone, who was clutching her bright red cheek. "After everything you know I suffered! You sat at my table! You held my hand while I cried over every single failed cycle! You knew how much pain I was in, and you still chose to betray me!"
Simone stared at me, her eyes shifting from shock to a cold, venomous glare.
"And you couldn't even do it outside?" I screamed, turning on Dylan, my finger shaking as I pointed at our floor. "You had to bring her into our home? Into my space?"
A terrible realization slotted into place, making me laugh that same wild, broken laugh. "Is that why, Dylan? Is that why you didn't care when I stayed alone, wondering where you were? Because you weren't even thinking about me. You were f*****g my best friend!"
Simone dropped her hand from her face. The guilt vanished from her expression, replaced by a nasty, curling sneer. "Oh, grow up, Isla," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Look at yourself. You're pathetic. No wonder he came to me. You've been broken for years, obsessing over a baby your body can't even make. You're not a real woman. You're just a sad, dry shell."
The words felt like a punch, but instead of shattering me, they sparked something lethal. A vicious, cold smile spread across my face through the tears.
"My body?" I whispered, the laughter bubbling up again, sharper this time. I looked at Simone's smug, hateful face. "You think my body is the problem, Simone? You think you won some grand prize with him?"
I turned my gaze slowly to Dylan.
"Isla, what the hell are you talking about?" Dylan stammered, his voice cracking as he looked at me like I had completely lost my mind. "Your body is the problem. We’ve been dealing with your fertility issues for years. Why are you acting like this is on me?"
"Because it is you, Dylan," I said, my voice ringing out like a bell in the quiet kitchen. I turned back to Simone, watching the confusion ripple across her face. "Do you know why we couldn't get pregnant, Simone? Do you know what was actually wrong all these years? Dylan is impotent. He's completely infertile. He has a zero sperm count, and he's known it for two solid years."
Dylan froze as if he had been struck by lightning. The color drained from his face instantly.
"Isla... how... how do you..." Dylan choked out, his chest heaving as a heavy sweat broke out along his forehead.
He stepped backward, hitting the edge of the counter, completely paralyzed by the realization that his foundation of lies had just collapsed.
"Look at him, Simone," I mocked, taking a step closer to her, savoring the absolute shock paralyzing both of them. "He let me take the blame. He watched me get pumped full of hormones, watched me cry until my eyes swelled shut, all to protect his precious, fragile ego. And the baby I'm carrying right now? It's from an anonymous donor. He forged my signature on a consent form because his own DNA is a dead end."
I broke out into a loud, echoing laugh, staring at the sheer horror dawning in my friend's eyes. "So please, take him! Enjoy your impotent man, Simone. Enjoy the pathetic liar who couldn't even give his wife a child, let alone give you a real future. You two deserve each other."
The words struck Simone like a physical force. She looked at Dylan, her voice trembling. "Dylan? Is... is that true? What is she talking about? You told me she was the one who couldn't conceive!"
Dylan snapped, his voice exploding in a panicked, defensive screech. "Simone, don't listen to her! She's out of her mind! She's making things up to hurt us! Isla, shut up!"
"He's the one who ruined everything!" I roared, the rage surging back. Before I could think, I lunged at her. I grabbed her camel-colored wool coat, and we collided against the kitchen counter. Simone gasped, clawing at my arms, her long nails digging into my skin. I pushed her hard, my fingers tangling in her hair as she tried to shove me back.
"Stop it! Both of you, stop it!" Dylan roared.
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