Chapter 3
Vivian
If there was a support group for people manipulated by their own siblings, I’d probably be its president. Lisa’s brand of “help” went from subtle to surgical: she monitored every word between me and Ryan, translating every sigh and silence into signs of “progress.”
“Ryan’s just struggling with all this,” she whispered one night, tucking me into bed like I was five. “He’s scared he’ll let you down. That’s why he acts distant.”
“He’s not distant,” I lied, because it hurt less than the truth. “He’s just tired.”
“Of course he is,” Lisa said, smoothing my hair. “But he loves you, Vivian. And so do I.”
The words should have comforted me. Instead, they concerned me deeply.
I clung to the belief that if I could just make Ryan see how hard I was trying, he’d come back to me for real.
So I planned a surprise for our anniversary: dinner at the restaurant where we had our first date, his favorite wine, and a little black dress I hadn’t worn since I still believed in miracles.
I called Ryan at lunch to remind him. “Can’t wait to see you tonight,” I said.
He sounded distracted. “Yeah, should be great. What time?”
I swallowed my disappointment and told him seven.
By six, I was ready: hair curled, makeup perfect, a spritz of the perfume he used to love. I stared at myself in the mirror, repeating Lisa’s mantra: “You are worthy. You are enough. You are a goddess.”
At 7:03, I got the first text: “Running late at the office. Don’t wait up.”
I stared at the phone, numb.
At 7:30, Lisa knocked on my door, holding a glass of wine. “He’s not coming, is he?” she asked, not bothering to sugarcoat it.
I shook my head, trying not to cry.
She sat next to me, pulling me into her lap. “You deserve better, Vivian. I wish he saw that.”
For a minute, I wanted to believe she meant it.
She held me until I finished the wine, then put me to bed.
I didn’t see Ryan that night, or the next. He slept at the office, or so he said. I wanted to text, to beg him to talk to me, but my pride was a stubborn beast.
On Friday, I made myself go to the charity breakfast for work. I wore my best suit and put on my game face, desperate to feel normal.
That’s where I saw him: Alejandro Bellandi. He was at the head table, flanked by politicians and local celebrities, but his gaze kept wandering around the room.
At one point, our eyes met. He held it just a second too long.
After the speeches, I ducked out for air. I made it halfway down the sidewalk before I heard his voice behind me.
“Rough week?” he asked, falling into step beside me.
I wanted to laugh, or maybe scream. Instead, I said, “Is it that obvious?”
He shrugged. “You’re not the only one. My docket this week could make a grown man cry.”
We walked in silence for a few blocks. He didn’t press, just waited.
Finally, I said, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I feel like my whole life is falling apart. And I can’t even talk to my husband about it.”
He nodded, like he understood. “Sometimes the person you love most is the hardest one to reach.”
I stopped walking. “Have you ever been in love, Judge?”
He smiled. “I used to think so. But love is less about what you feel, and more about what you choose.”
That hit a little too close to home. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep choosing.”
He looked at me then, really looked. “You are,” he said. “You just don’t see it yet.”
It was the kindest thing anyone had said to me in years.
He walked me back to the building, and before he left, he said, “If you ever need an ear, you know where to find me.”
I watched him go, feeling less alone for the first time in ages.
That night, Lisa made dinner for all three of us. She lit candles, played soft music, and insisted we eat together.
Ryan barely touched his food, but he kept glancing at Lisa when he thought I wasn’t looking.
When dessert was cleared, Lisa asked us to sit in the living room. She trembled as she poured herself a glass of water, eyes brimming with fake tears.
“I have something to tell you both,” she said.
She looked at me first. “Vivian, I never wanted to hurt you. You’re my sister and my best friend.”
Then at Ryan: “And you. I know how much this means to you.”
She took a shaky breath, the picture of vulnerability.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
The room spun. For a second, I thought I’d misheard.
She looked down, tears finally spilling. “I just found out today.”
Ryan stared at her, then at me. He didn’t say a word.
I forced myself to speak. “That’s…wow. Are you sure?”
Lisa nodded, clutching her belly.
Ryan looked like he might throw up.
Lisa reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away.
I stared at their joined hands, waiting for Ryan to let go.
He didn’t.
Instead, he looked right at me and said, voice flat:
“The baby is mine.”
Holy freaking heck—
I don’t remember much after that.
I think I freaking screamed. I think I threw something at the freaking wall.
Lisa cried harder, her face buried on Ryan’s shoulder.
Ryan just sat there, eyes glazed, like he’d already left the room.
I ran. Out the door, down the block, into the dark.
I ran until my lungs burned and my legs gave out.
I curled up on a park bench, shaking.
I remembered what Alejandro said: Love is a choice.
Maybe this was the moment I finally stopped choosing.
Holy. Freaking. Heck.
It turned out I was the only one who hadn’t seen this coming. What now?