Page 93 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
I frown. "What was that?"
George shrugs.
As we both get to our feet to check it out, the sound is followed by a loud crash.
CHAPTER 27
Jenna
Marina and I run into each other in the hallway—me heading back from the bathroom, her on her way there.
She catches my eye with a look that suggests she wants to talk, so I slow down. It would be awkward to keep walking as if we hadn't just had that strange bathroom encounter.
"So, it was you," I say.
"It was me," she replies with that mild smile of hers, the kind that feels like it hides something darker underneath.
"Any reason you didn't tell me who you were that day?"
She shrugs. "I didn't think it was important. Besides, I didn't think you'd take my warning seriously if you knew who I was. You'd write me off as a bitter ex."
I raise an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"
"Of course not. I left him, remember?"
"Really? The way I heard it, you cheated on him with his brother, Steph told him about the affair, and he dumped you."
"Well, Steph wasn't there, and she doesn't know as much as she thinks she does." She sighs. "The truth is, Grayson was willing to overlook it. We've always loved each other deeply, despite our problems. He practically begged me to stay, but Itold him no—for his own good as much as mine. The fact that we'd let it get that far, hurt each other that much… it meant something between us was fundamentally broken, and no Band-Aid could fix it."
Annoyance creeps into my voice. "You're trying to make it sound like both sides are at fault. But it wasn't ‘both of you' who let it get that far. You cheated on him."
"Ah. But you've only heard one side of the story, haven't you? It's easy to judge when you know nothing about our relationship."
"What makes you think he hasn't told me everything?"
"Because if he had, you wouldn't be standing here saying these things to me." She steps closer. "There's a reason I gave you that warning in the bathroom. Like I said, there are two sides to every story."
"Sure. But one of them's usually closer to the truth than the other."
"Perhaps." She smiles again. "But which one? Anyway, I'm not claiming perfection. But that's not the point. You're not engaged to me—you're engaged to him, remember?"
And with that, she walks past me, her perfume lingering in the air while her words linger in my mind.
A sound startles me—a sharp, misplaced noise. I turn around.
Marina is leaning against the wall, clutching her stomach, her face twisted in pain. She lets out a low moan.
"Hey, are you okay?" I ask, moving toward her.
She opens her mouth to speak, eyes wide and pleading—then collapses to the floor with a heavy thud that echoes through the hallway.
I gasp, half in shock, half in panic, and rush to her side, reaching out instinctively.
Everything happens fast.
As I kneel and lift her limp wrist, rapid footsteps thunder behind me.
"What on earth is going on here?"
