Page 10 of Wynter's Second Chance

Shecheatedon me. She let another man touch her, be with her, while I was thousands of miles away, fighting tooth and nail for the life we were supposed to have together.

How could she do this to me?

“Save the tears.” My voice came out harsh, with a rough edge of finality. “They’re not going to work.”

She flinched, her tear-streaked face hardening in an instant, like a switch had been flipped. Her expression, once full of remorse, turned cold. Defensive. Shedaredto glare at me, as if I was the one in the wrong. As ifIhad shattered our life.

Anger flared anew, a hot, bitter taste in my mouth. Shouldn’t she be begging me for forgiveness? Instead, she was expecting me to somehow understand this mess. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

“I didn’t...” Her voice, barely above a whisper, trailed off.

I shook my head, trying to keep my anger in check. But it was useless. The image of her—of them—together was seared into my brain. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it. A stranger’s hands on her, their bodies tangled together. It made my stomach twist, the bile rising.

“Every single phone call. Every letter. Was he with you? Did you laugh about me together while I was trying to hold everything together? While I was doing my best to believe in us, in you?” The words were out before I could stop them. Sharp. Bitter. Angry. But it was the truth, the pain clawing at my insides, demanding to be let out.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice wobbled. But sorry wasn’t enough. Sorry didn’t even scratch the surface.

“Sorry doesn’t erase what you’ve done.”

She sobbed again, wiping her face with trembling hands, but it only made the rage build. Each tear she shed felt like another twist of the knife.

I wanted to scream at her.Who was he? Why? Why wasn’t I enough?But the words stuck in my throat like ash. It didn’t matter anyway. Not really.

Her betrayal was a wound I couldn’t heal, nor did I want to. She’d been unfaithful, and now she was carrying another man’s child. Nothing she said could change that.

If she couldn’t even muster the courage to tell me the truth, why should I have any sympathy for her now? I tried. I called when I could, sent messages and emails whenever I had the chance. I convinced myself that her silence wasn’t something more, that she was just busy. Even chalked it up to the stress of my long deployments. But now, I saw it all so clearly. She could have written more, could have taken the time, made the effort instead of letting the distance stretch between us, letting the silence linger. Sure, there were a few calls, a couple of letters—but looking back, they were few and far between, just enough to make me believe everything was fine. Those fleeting conversations, those words of affection—which I now realized were forced—stung more now than they would have if I’d realized it at the time. The love she faked hurt more than the truth of her affair ever could.

What the hell was I thinking? She didn’t just have an affair.Past tense?I let out a humorless laugh, bitter and self loathing.Who am I kidding?She was probably still fucking him, while I stood here, a complete fool.

Why the hell didn’t she just tell me she was done, that she’d moved on? Did I mean so little to her that she couldn’t even give me that?

My mind was spinning in circles, the same thoughts crashing against each other like waves on rocks.

My chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of betrayal suffocating me. God, I was such a fool. I thought I was fighting to protect something worth saving.

But there was nothing left.

“I want a divorce,” I said, the words cold and final. They came out even more detached than I intended. But my heart was a brick of ice, unfeeling, impenetrable.

Her head snapped up. She raised a hand, and then dropped it. “Wyn, please listen. The man—he isn’t in my life anymore.” The panic in her voice was palpable, but it only made my stomach churn. She was desperate now, clinging to the last thread of hope.

But I was already severing it.

“Neither am I.”

Fresh tears pooled in her eyes, her voice trembling with desperation. “I can understand your bitterness, your anger. But I—I’m going to be a mother soon. I can’t do it on my own.”

Mother. A word that struck me to the core. Lisa was about to be a mother to a child that wouldn’t be mine.

I couldn’t believe she had the nerve to say such a thing to me. She was having another man’s baby and she expected me to stay by her side? I didn’t care if this was a mistake or a planned thing. It didn’t concern me if she was genuinely sorry or faking it. All I wanted was to get out of her life and never see her again.

The sooner the better!

There was no way I was raising another man’s child as my own. If she’d told me before, talked, apologized, maybe I might have been able to do it knowing that she needed a fresh start as much as I did. But right now, her needs were very selfish. And I couldn’t handle being with her. How could I help her take care of this child?

“You should’ve thought about it before you got into this mess. This isn’t my problem. It’s yours. Deal with it!”

“Wynter, please. I don’t have anyone else here, at least not anyone I’m close to. The father doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby. He wanted me to abort. I refused to do it and he—we broke up.”

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