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We had just stepped out of the doctor’s office, still holding onto that fragile, glowing kind of happiness that doesn’t feel real yet. The kind that makes everything else fade into the background. For the first time, we had heard our baby’s heartbeat—fast, steady, alive. It echoed in my head even as we walked through the parking lot, both of us smiling without saying much, like we were afraid speaking might break the moment.
Emily squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.
Everything felt right.
Until we reached the car.
At first, I didn’t understand what I was looking at. My eyes scanned the driver’s side door, trying to make sense of the jagged lines carved into the paint. Then the words hit me all at once.
Hope she was worth it.
My chest tightened instantly. The air felt heavier. I stepped closer, running my fingers just above the scratches as if touching them would somehow make them disappear.
“What the hell…” I muttered under my breath.
Emily went still beside me. I could feel the shift in her before I even looked at her. When I finally turned, her eyes were locked on the message, her expression unreadable.
“Emily,” I said quickly, my voice already breaking with panic. “I swear—I don’t know anything about this. I’ve never cheated. Not once. You have to believe me.”
She didn’t respond right away. That silence stretched longer than anything I’d ever experienced. I would have preferred shouting, accusations—anything but that quiet.
Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but shaking. “I didn’t write it.”