I rubbed my stomach, still sore from the miscarriage, and thought, ‘I’m sorry, little one. You came at the wrong time.’ 

Swallowing both physical and emotional pain, I replayed Melanie Jacobson’s video. 

Her flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and overflowing affection filled the screen. Below, comments were already flooding in. 

[I was there! I swear, Steven and Melanie were full-on French kissing!] 

[Wow! Steven’s got moves. No wonder she looks so dazed. Did you see Lanie’s face?] 

[Still stands: women outside smell sweeter than the wife at home!] 

The video ended as they finally pulled apart, after what felt like forever. 

More teasing comments piled up, and Melanie selectively replied to a few. 

Melanie: [Come on, guys, don’t start rumors! Steve and I are just bros—good pals!] 

Melanie: [Keep saying things like that, and Roly-Poly might get mad, lol!] 

The “Roly-Poly” she referred to? That would be me, Anya Rouse. 

When I was a kid, I had to take steroids for a medical condition, which pushed my weight up to 120 pounds. 

These days, I weighed just 90 pounds, even slimmer than Melanie herself. Yet, she still clung to that nickname, especially when Steven Cobham was around. 

My chest tightened, as if a rock was pressing down on it. 

Thus, this was why Steven dropped a multimillion-dollar deal today to be a groomsman at an ex-classmate’s wedding. 

I had assumed it was brotherhood that pulled him there—but it turned out his first love, Melanie, was the bridesmaid. 

How foolish I had been. 

I knew it was time to end this relationship. 

… 

It was late when Steven stumbled home, reeking of alcohol. Bright red lipstick smudged his pristine white shirt.