Chapter 4

He walked in carrying the winter chill, a takeout bag in his hand. When he saw the cardboard boxes piled in the living room, he froze.

I said nothing.

His eyes drifted to the clothes scattered across the floor, the shredded memories in the trash can, and finally, the designer bag.

The color drained from his face.

"Gwen, let me explain..."

"Explain what?" I cut him off, my voice dead cold.

"Explain why you've been sleeping with her for three years? Explain how you knocked her up? Or explain why you handed me her garbage as an anniversary gift?"

His mouth opened, but not a single sound came out.

"Derek," I said his name slowly. "Tell me, do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Did you think I'd never find out? That you could just play house with me, marry me, and keep her tucked away forever?"

He shook his head frantically. "No, it's not like that... I ended things with her a long time ago..."

"Ended things?"

A sharp laugh tore from my throat.

"She’s carrying your child in her belly right now, and you’re standing here telling me it's over?"

"That was an accident..." His voice dropped to a whisper, unable to even convince himself.

"An accident?" I snatched the photo from the trash and slapped it against his chest. "What about this? Was this an accident too?"

"I don't know who put that picture in there! I swear, Gwen, please believe me..."

"Believe you?"

"I believed you for five years, Derek! And look where that got me!"

"What am I supposed to believe? Believe you didn't cheat? Believe she isn't pregnant? Believe you're still that sweet boy who used to bring me breakfast every morning?"

He stood frozen in place, his posture stiff.

His eyes were welling up with tears.

Disgusting.

How did he have the nerve to cry?

"Gwen, I don't want to lose you," his voice trembled. "I love you. I really do."

Love.

He dared say he loved me.

A wave of nausea washed over me.

"You've been with her for three years, and you have the audacity to tell me you love me?" I asked, staring straight into his eyes. "Is your love that cheap, Derek? Cheap enough to be split between two women?"

"No, it's not..." He stepped forward, reaching out to grab my hand.

I stepped back instantly. "Don't touch me."

His hand hung suspended in the air before slowly dropping back to his side.

"I know I messed up," he choked out. "Just give me one chance. I'll cut all ties with her. I'll make her get an abortion. I'll—"

"Shut up!"

I snapped.

"Do you hear how sick you sound?"

"That's a human life! You'd tell her to kill it just to save your own skin? Do you have a shred of humanity left?"

"Gwen, I'm so sorry, please..."

He dropped to his knees, frantically scooping up the clothes from the floor and trying to shove them back into the closet.

"Don't leave me. Please, I'm begging you, don't leave..."

Watching him made me feel sick with disbelief.

He was on the floor, stumbling over shirts and pants, repeating apologies like a broken record: *I was wrong, please don't go, I'm sorry.*

"Derek," I said coldly. "Stop. Leave them on the floor. I don't care where they end up."

"Gwen, give me one more chance. Just one..."

He scrambled to his feet and lunged to pull me into an embrace. I grabbed the glass of water off the side table and splashed it directly into his face.

Water dripped down his nose and chin, mixing with his tears, making him look completely pathetic.

"Wake up," I said. "We are done."

"We are not done!" he suddenly roared, his voice cracking. "I say we're not done, so we're not! You're my girlfriend, and you're not going anywhere!"

I froze for a second.

In all five years of being together, he had never once raised his voice at me.

This was the first time.

All to keep me from walking away.

How ironic.

When he courted me, he was gentle, attentive, soft-spoken as a lamb.

Now the mask was slipping.

"Derek, calm down." I backed up another step, keeping distance between us.

"I am calm!"

He wiped the water from his face with his sleeve, took several ragged breaths, and forced his tone to soften.

"Gwen, let's just talk. Please?"

"There is nothing to talk about."

"Just hear me out. I can explain everything about Ivy..."

"I don't care to hear it."

"You have to hear it!"

Panic seized him again. He rushed forward and locked his fingers around my wrist, squeezing so hard it hurt.

"We've been together for five years! You can't throw everything away because of some outsider!"

"An outsider?" I looked him dead in the eye. "She's carrying your child, and you're calling her an outsider?"