David stood in a boutique, half-distracted as his new wife, Claire, tried on dresses. She twirled in front of the mirror, asking for his opinion, but his thoughts wandered. He forced a smile, pretending to admire her, though unease gnawed at him.
Then a voice startled him.
“David.”
He turned, and his heart jolted. It was Emma—his ex-wife. She stood only a few feet away, holding a blouse in her hands. Their eyes met, heavy with the weight of unfinished history.
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Emma spoke, her tone steady but edged with sorrow.
“You think she’s pregnant, don’t you?”
David’s chest tightened. “What are you implying?” he asked, his voice defensive.
Emma looked at him with painful clarity. “Don’t be blind, David. Not everyone who claims to carry your child is telling the truth.”
Her words cut deeper than he wanted to admit. He opened his mouth to respond, but Claire appeared at his side, oblivious to the tension. Emma simply gave David one last knowing look before walking away.
That night, Emma’s words echoed relentlessly in David’s head. He finally confronted Claire.
“Tomorrow,” he said firmly, “we’re going to the doctor. I need to know the truth.”
Claire’s face paled, but she agreed. The next day, the test results came back clear: negative. She was not pregnant.
The ground beneath David seemed to collapse. The reason he had destroyed his marriage, abandoned Emma, and rushed into another life—was built on a lie.
The ride home from the clinic was suffocating. Claire babbled excuses, insisting it must have been a mistake, but David barely heard her. His hands gripped the steering wheel as his mind reeled.
He remembered the night Claire had told him she was pregnant. The joy, the rush of adrenaline, the certainty that he had to do “the right thing.” That conviction had driven him to divorce Emma, a woman who had stood by him through years of struggle.
Now, with the truth laid bare, all he could feel was shame.
When they reached home, David didn’t speak. He simply walked past Claire, locked himself in his study, and sat in the darkness. Memories of Emma flooded his mind: her gentle laughter, the way she’d brew his coffee exactly how he liked it, the patience in her eyes even during their worst arguments.
He realized, with piercing clarity, that Emma had never betrayed him. She had only loved him. And he had thrown her away for a lie.
Days turned into weeks, and regret became his constant companion. He tried reaching out to Emma once, dialing her number, but hung up before she answered. What could he possibly say? “I was wrong”? Those words felt too small for the damage he had caused.
One evening, he passed by the same boutique where they had met again. He stopped, staring through the window, half-hoping to see her once more. She wasn’t there.
For the first time, David understood the true cost of his choices. He hadn’t just lost a wife—he had lost the only woman who had ever truly loved him.
And that was a mistake no truth could undo.