Clara Whelow and Leander Everhart had been married for five blissful years, choosing to remain child free. Their life gether was everything third
dreamed of.
Until that phone call changed everything.
“Elara, I need to tell you something,” his voice was strained through the receiver. “Marla Crowley–you know, the scholarship student I’ve been helping she’s pregnant. She… she stolen my sperm from our used condoms.”
Her world tilted. “What are you saying?”
“We never slept together, I swear. I was going to take her to get an abortion, but my family found out. They’re threatening to disown me if I don’t keep this baby.”
Through her tears, Elara whispered, “Okay.”
But nothing was okay after that day.
The man who used to roll his eyes at crying babies in restaurants was suddenly devouring pregnancy books. He attended every ultrasound appointment, spent weekends setting up a nursery, and spoke about prenatal vitamins with the enthusiasm he once reserved for their weekend
getaways.
When the fire broke out at the company retreat, Elara watched in horror as Leander scooped Marla into his arms without a second’s hesitation.
“Leander!” Elara’s voice cracked as smoke filled her lungs. “I’m over here! Help me!”
His footsteps faltered. Through the haze, their eyes met for one agonizing moment. She saw something flicker across his face–conflict, maybe even ‘ recognition.
Then Marla’s panicked voice cut through: “Leander, please, we have to go! The baby-”
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice gentle in a way that made Elara’s chest ache. “Our family of three is getting out of here safe.”
Our family of three.
Those words hit harder than the burning beam that crashed down moments later, pinning Elara beneath its weight.
As consciousness slipped away, her mind drifted to another accident five years ago. Rain had been pelting the sidewalk when a truck jumped the curb. Without thinking, she’d shoved Leander out of harm’s way, taking the full impact herself.
She remembered waking up to devastating news: the internal damage meant she’d never carry children.
“We should end this,” she’d told him through tears on her discharge day. “You’re the Everhart heir. Your family needs kids.”
But Leander had pressed her against the hospital room wall, kissing her breathless: “Are you insane? I only want you. If we can’t have children, we’ll be one of those couples who travels the world instead of changing diapers. I’ll deal with my family.”
And he had dealt with them. He’d knelt in the family chapel for twenty–four hours, enduring ninety–nine lashes and their rage, until finally his grandfather had thrown up his hands in defeat.
On their wedding day, Leander had cupped her face with shaking hands, his eyes brimming with tears: “You’re all I’ll ever need in this lifetime, Clara. Just you”
And now, he was holding another woman in his arms, whispering about “our family of three.”
The flames devased Elara’s final thread of consciousness.
sheth play the perfect family of three,
The antiseptic smell l her before she opened her eyes. Hospital She was alive.
Thank God, you’re awake
Leander sat beside her bed, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually perfect hair was disheveled.
“How are you feeling? The doctors said specialists…”
you’ll be fine–some burns, a concussion, but nothing permanent. I made sure you got the best care, brought in
Elare stared at him, something cold settling in her chest. This concern, this tenderness–where had it been when she was screaming
fire?
his Tame in that
to
“Leander, her voice came out raspy, “I want a div-”
“Actually,” he interrupted, pulling out a manila folder, “we need to talk about that. About getting divorced.”
The words she’d been about to say died in her throat.
“It’s just temporary,” he rushed on, like he’d practiced this speech. “Just for the paperwork. Marla’s due next month, and the baby needs both biological parents on the birth certificate. Once that’s sorted, she’ll take the money and leave.”
Elara felt numb. “And then?”
“Then we go back to normal. You, me, and…” he paused, his eyes lighting up, “and we’ll raise the kid together. Like we adopted or something. What do you think?”
She stared at him. After everything–the fire, the abandonment, the casual way he’d chosen his new family over his wife–he still expected her to play along.
“The lawyers are waiting downstairs,” he pressed, offering her a pen. “Just sign here, and in a few months, this whole mess will be behind us.”
Her hand trembled as she took the pen. One signature, and five years of marriage would be reduced to paperwork.
The moment the tip touched paper, a tear fell onto the words “Petitioners for Divorce,” spreading into a watery stain.
Leander didn’t seem to notice. He was already reaching for the papers, relief evident on his face. “I knew you’d understand. You always do.”
He leaned down to kiss her forehead–a gesture that once would have comforted her. Now she turned away.
He froze for a moment, then straightened up as if nothing had happened. “I’ll be back later. Just wait for me a little longer, okay?”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Wait?
She would never wait again.
Twenty minutes later, Elara was pulling on her clothes, ignoring the nurse’s protests about discharge procedures. She made it halfway down the hall before voices from the maternity ward stopped her cold.
“Easy does it, sweetheart. Don’t push yourself.”
Leander’s voice, warm and protective in a way that felt utterly foreign.
“I can’t believe how active he is today.” came Marla’s reply, breathless with excitement. “Feel this–he’s practically doing gymnastics in there.”
“Our little athlete.” Leander chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about names. What do you think of Gabriel? Or maybe William, after my grandfather?”
love Gabriel Marla said softly. “Gabriel Everhart. It sounds perfect.”
her back against the cold wall, her nails digging deep into her palms
was the man who used to change the channel when diaper commercials came on. Who’d sworn up and down at their wedding reception that their child free life was exactly what he’d always dreamed of
She remembered that rainy night five years ago when Leander had stood soaking wet beneath her apartment building, his eyes red as if they might bleed: “Lara, if we can’t have children, then we can’t. I don’t like children anyway, truly I only need you
*I can’t wait to teach him to play baseball.” Leander was saying now. “Maybe piano, like my mom tried to teach me.”
You’re going to be such a good father.”
Oh, Leander.
If you wanted children. why did you choose me? Why did you say I was irreplaceable? Why did you lie to me?
Elara turned away, her tears shattering against the hospital’s polished floor,
In the taxi, she dialed her parents with shaking fingers.
“Mom? It’s me I… I want to come stay with you. In London.”
“Elara? Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You sound terrible.”
“Leander and I are getting divorced.” Her throat tightened. “We just… fell out of love.”
She said quietly, “So we’re parting on good terms.”
Her mother’s sharp intake of breath said everything.
“I’ll book you a flight tonight,” her father’s voice came through, having taken the phone. “Pack light. We’ll get you whatever you need here.”
“Actually, Dad, I want to do more than visit. I want to immigrate permanently and cancel all my domestic records.”
The immigration lawyer’s office was nearly empty at 4 PM on a Tuesday.
“I want to renounce my citizenship and emigrate to the UK,” Elara said, sliding her passport across the desk. “And I want to ensure all records of my existence here are sealed.”
The lawyer looked up sharply. “That’s quite permanent. Are you certain? Once we process this, legally speaking, Elara Whitlow will cease to exist in the United States.”
Elara nodded quietly. “I’m certain.”
From this day forward, there would be no Elara Whitlow in this city.
Leander, as you wished–I’m completely stepping out of your perfect little family’s world.
♡ (0)
(0)
