Chapter 4: The Night We Stopped Pretending

I barely held back my sobs.

My throat felt raw, my chest tight, but I forced myself to sit up and meet his gaze, just once.

“On April 6th, six years ago, you said you weren’t feeling well and sent your best man to fetch your bride.”

My voice trembled, but I let the words spill out, each one a small rebellion.

His expression changed.

The mask slipped for just a moment—pain, regret, maybe even guilt flickered in his eyes. He turned away, jaw set.

When I first learned I was to marry the most dazzling guy in Maple Heights, I was so happy I couldn’t sleep for several nights.

My mother caught me writing “Mrs. Derek Chandler” over and over in the margins of my notebook. Even now, the memory burned, bittersweet.

Derek was bold and wild, like the sun. Those bright blue eyes always smiling.

He’d light up the room, make everyone laugh, the kind of boy you knew would break hearts and never mean to.

“I was really happy that day. Even though it sounded bad to have your friends fetch the bride, I didn’t hesitate at all, and even worried about you not feeling well.”

I remembered the way my hands shook as I fixed my veil, wondering if he had a fever, if he was okay.

I lowered my eyes.

The pain threatened to swallow me, but I pressed on.

“Maybe you didn’t notice, but in the limo, I saw you… and that Miss Harper riding a horse together. We passed right by each other.”

The image was burned into my brain—the two of them, her hair loose in the breeze, his arm around her waist. My heart crumpled like paper.

“I just… watched my husband run away from our wedding with my own eyes.”

It’s really pathetic—even after all this time, I still remember he was wearing a red jacket, looking so happy and free.

His laugh echoed across the field, careless and alive, nothing like the man who came back to me later, suit pressed, face closed.

He was clearly dressed up, but not to marry me.

He wore her colors, her smile, her freedom. Not mine.

“So many guests came to the house. My dad was happy after drinking, Grandma Carol…”

I could still hear my dad’s booming laugh, my mother’s forced cheer, the neighbors’ whispered gossip drifting through the living room.

“Enough! I said enough!”

Derek’s voice exploded, raw and furious. He rose from the bed, fists clenched, shoulders heaving.

Suddenly, Derek lost control. He punched the window frame.

The thud shook the glass, a crack spiderwebbing through the paint. I gasped, hands flying to my mouth as the room seemed to shrink.

The wood let out a dull creak, and blood seeped from his sleeve.

A bright smear, vivid against the white cuff. He barely seemed to notice, shaking with anger.

The veins on his temple bulged, his eyes reddened, and he was breathing hard.

He looked like a cornered animal—wild, hurting, all his composure gone.

“Why bring this up again? Why! For the family, for my mom, didn’t I already compromise with you all?”

His voice cracked. “I did what I was supposed to do, Natalie. I stayed.”

“She’s in Savannah now, hundreds of miles from Maple Heights.”

He spat the words, like the distance should make everything alright. My fists clenched in my lap.

“Natalie, I’ve been by your side for six years. What more do you want?”

He stood there, breath ragged, waiting for an answer I didn’t have the words to give.

The calm, silent surface of the past six years was finally torn apart.

It was all out, messy and loud and real, no more pretending. My heart pounded in my chest.

Today, Derek finally lost his usual cool and got angry.

For a moment, I felt a flash of vindication—at least he felt something. Even if it was rage.

I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore.

My shoulders shook, the dam finally broken, tears flowing hot and unchecked.

For the first time, ignoring all propriety, I shouted with red eyes,

“So I have to pretend to be blind and deaf! Not see the texts you send her every month, not hear you murmur her name in your sleep!”

The words tumbled out, wild and sharp. “You always pitied her, but what about me? Have you ever considered me?”

Derek flung his arm coldly and left, slamming the door behind him.

The slam echoed down the hall, rattling the picture frames. I flinched, feeling the whole house tremble.

“You’ll never compare to her.”

His voice was icy, final. I froze, every nerve ending burning, my hands flying to my mouth as the words cut deep.

I was stunned, covering my eyes, and suddenly let out a low, bitter laugh.

It sounded hollow, strange in the quiet room. I rocked back and forth, letting the pain wash over me.

What a miserable marriage…

I pressed my face into the pillow, muffling my sobs, wondering if anyone could really call this a life.

The commotion just now was too loud, and Lily got up from the next room.

Her small feet padded across the floor, her stuffed rabbit trailing behind her. I heard the door creak.

She stood barefoot at the door, her eyes a little wet, looking timidly at me.

She hugged the rabbit to her chest, biting her lip, tears pooling in her big brown eyes.

“Mommy, please don’t fight with Daddy, okay?”

Her voice wavered, and I felt my heart shatter all over again.

Seeing me like this, she was frightened, pouting and crying big tears.

Her sobs were hiccupy, little gasps that squeezed my chest with guilt.

“I don’t want you to fight! I want to always be Daddy and Mommy’s little girl. I don’t want you to be mad.”

She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve, the rabbit squished tight in her arms.

“Maddie next door’s mom ran away. I don’t want to be without a mom!”

Her voice grew louder, desperate, echoing down the hall. My hands shook as I reached for her.

She cried louder and louder. I was at a loss.

I scooped her into my lap, smoothing her tangled hair, whispering anything I could think of.

“That’s not true, that’s not true. Your dad and I are fine. We’re not fighting.”

I forced the words out, hoping she’d believe them more than I did.

After all, she’s my own flesh and blood. My heart ached, so I could only lie to her.

I pressed her to my chest, rocking gently, willing my heartbeat to steady hers.

“Of course we love each other—otherwise, how would we have you, Lily?”

I kissed her forehead, her hair smelling like baby shampoo and sleep.

“There isn’t even a stepmom here. You’re already very lucky. Have you ever seen us bicker?”

I tried to laugh, light and easy. She wiped her tears, blinking up at me with hope.

Of course she hadn’t. Derek and I were so polite and distant it was scary.

I thought of the way we passed salt at dinner, never touching, never raising our voices—just an endless, careful politeness.

But kids don’t understand these things. Lily tilted her head and thought for a long time, then suddenly smiled through her tears.

She grinned, cheeks still damp, a dimple flashing. "Yeah! I’ll tell Tommy next door he’s wrong! I’m the happiest kid."

She tugged my ear and whispered,

She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping. “Tommy says his mom always chases his dad with a broom, and they fight all the time.”

I was stunned. Lily smiled contentedly. “Daddy and Mommy love each other more!”

Her laughter bubbled up, pure and sweet. For a moment, I almost believed it myself.

As I rocked Lily, her little fists clutching my shirt, I realized—no matter how quiet we kept our pain, someone always heard. And tonight, it was my daughter.