Chapter 1: Milk Stains and Dirty Secrets

I drove nearly a thousand miles just to do laundry for my long-distance girlfriend. Yeah, you read that right. If that isn’t devotion, I don’t know what is.

The interstate was just a blur—green exit signs flying by, endless stretches of cracked asphalt, my playlist recycling the same old road trip songs. I’d lost track of how many times I’d heard that one Bon Jovi song. By the time I finally pulled into her apartment complex, my hands were still cramped from gripping the steering wheel, and the sun was sinking behind the strip mall across the street. I’d done some wild stuff for love, but this? This was on a whole other level. What was I even doing?

But when I picked up her underwear, I found these weird, crusty milk stains on them.

I just stopped, hands halfway dunked in the sudsy water, staring at the faded lace. The apartment was silent except for the steady drone of the AC, and suddenly the air felt heavy—almost suffocating. Was I seeing things? I blinked hard, but nope, the stains were right there. No denying it.

I froze.

My brain just blanked out, like someone hit pause on my whole life. My chest went tight, and my heartbeat started thumping in my ears. I didn’t move—just stared at the fabric in my hands, unable to wrap my head around what I was seeing.

We always used protection. Wait, what? A wave of confusion and anxiety crashed over me, hard.

We were careful—always. It was practically a running joke between us, how obsessive I was about it. So how was this even possible? Cold sweat prickled down my back, my thoughts spinning out in a hundred directions at once.

Honestly, isn’t this something that only happens after you have a baby?

I mean, that’s what everyone says, right? Milk stains like that—aren’t they a post-baby thing? I tried to remember what Coach Miller had droned on about in health class, or what my mom had awkwardly explained once, but everything felt scrambled, unreal.

So who’s the father?

That question hit me like a punch straight to the gut. My stomach lurched, like I’d just swallowed a mouthful of dirty dishwater. No way. This can’t be happening. Not to me.

I hadn’t seen my girlfriend, Autumn Hayes, in over half a year.

Six months apart, and not a day went by without me thinking about her. We’d FaceTimed, texted, sent each other dumb memes—but nothing compared to seeing her in person. I’d counted down to this trip, convinced it would be a fresh start for us.

We were this close to jumping each other.

The second I walked in, the tension was electric. Her eyes sparkled, she kept brushing up against me, laughter bubbling up every time our hands touched. God, I’d missed that—the easy way we just fit together.

"Babe, it’s so hot today. I’m gonna take a shower first, okay? Will you help me with my laundry? Please?"

Her voice was playful, that kind of sing-song plea she used when she wanted something. She tossed her clothes on the bed, gave me a quick peck, and disappeared into the bathroom. I had to grin—she always knew how to get her way.

But Autumn, who was usually a total neat freak, started flirting, asked me to wash her underwear, and then vanished into the bathroom. Which, by the way, she never let anyone do.

Honestly, it was weird. Normally, she wouldn’t let anyone near her stuff, let alone her underwear. But I figured she was just being cute, or maybe she was wiped out from work. I shrugged it off, chalked it up to her being in a good mood now that I was finally here.

I waited for her to come out, feeling pretty proud of myself, and casually turned on the faucet to start washing her clothes.

I hummed a little, thinking about the night ahead—how good it would feel to finally be together again. The apartment smelled like her—vanilla candles and fresh laundry. For a second, everything felt almost normal. Almost.

I hadn’t even scrubbed a few times when I felt some hard lumps.

My hand jerked back, the sensation catching me off guard. Gross. It wasn’t just a little lint or a loose thread—something was caked on, stiff and rough. I frowned, poking at it with my finger.

The dry, rough sensation made my throat tighten instantly.

My mouth went dry. Dread crawled up my spine, the kind you get when you know you’ve messed up but aren’t sure how yet. The more I looked, the more my stomach twisted.

I looked closer—on the padding inside the lacy bra, there were big, white milk stains.

I held the bra up to the light, squinting. The stains weren’t small—thick. Crusted. I scraped at it with my nail and felt it flake off, leaving a weird chalky residue.

Some of it even floated up in the sink water.

Little clumps broke off and drifted to the surface, swirling in the soap bubbles. Then the smell hit—sour and unmistakable. I jerked back, almost dropping the bra.

I leaned in and took a sniff. There was a strong, sour smell of milk.

I gagged, covering my nose. It was like someone left a carton of milk in a gym locker. Nauseating. My mind reeled, trying to make sense of it.

What the hell.

I stared at the sink, the reality creeping in. This wasn’t just a laundry fail. This was something else—something I didn’t want to admit.

Confusion and anxiety surged up all over again.

My hands shook. I kept replaying the last few months in my head, searching for any clue I’d missed. Had she ever said she was sick? Acted weird on the phone? Nothing fit.

What did these milk stains mean?

I ran through every possible explanation, but they all led to the same place. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might explode.

Isn’t this something that only happens after giving birth?

I tried to remember what I’d learned in health class, but all I could think was, this can’t be real. This only happens to new moms, right?

So who’s the father of the child?

My stomach dropped. The question echoed in my mind, louder and louder, until it drowned out everything else. Anger flared—hot, sharp.

My heart started pounding as I thought about it.

Every beat was like a hammer. I gripped the edge of the sink, trying to steady myself. My vision blurred, tears threatening, but I refused to let them fall.

Damn. Looks like I’ve been played.

The realization left me hollow. I felt like the butt of a cruel joke. All those late-night calls, all the sweet texts—was any of it real?

Autumn was still showering in the bathroom, the sound of running water grating on my nerves.

Each splash felt like a slap in the face. I could hear her humming, totally oblivious. It made me want to punch a wall. I stared at the closed door, my mind racing.

I lay on the bed, my thoughts spinning, trying to figure out what the hell to do.

The ceiling fan spun lazily, throwing slow shadows across the wall. I stared up at it, my thoughts chasing each other in circles. Should I confront her? Should I just leave? No clue.

Autumn and I had been together since college, and next month we were supposed to walk down the aisle.

We’d picked out venues, tasted cakes, even fought over the guest list. We were supposed to be solid. Our families had already sent out the save-the-dates. I thought I knew her—I thought we were unbreakable.

This visit happened because her company reached out, saying Autumn still hadn’t finished her pre-employment health screening.

I’d thought it was odd, but she sounded so stressed about it. HR was threatening to hold up her benefits, and I wanted to help however I could.

Without the checkup, she couldn’t officially start, and she wouldn’t get her benefits.

She was always a planner—never missed a deadline. The fact that she was dragging her feet on something this big should’ve set off alarms.

I pressed for a reason, and on FaceTime she teared up, eyes glossy.

I could still see her face on the screen, eyes red, voice shaky. She was always good at making me feel like her hero.

"Babe, since my mom passed, I’ve felt so alone."

That hit me right in the soft spot. She knew how much I cared about her family, how hard her mom’s loss hit her. I felt that old urge to protect her, to fix things.

"I’m terrified of hospitals, and even more scared of needles… If you’re not with me, I might just die."

She sniffled, wiping her nose. I’d always been the one to hold her hand at doctor’s appointments, the one she leaned on when things got tough.

Seeing her cry like that, I felt nothing but sympathy.

I hated seeing her hurt. I promised myself I’d do anything to make her feel safe—even if it meant dropping everything and driving across the country.

So I worked overtime to wrap things up, took three days off, and drove out to see her.

I barely slept. But I made it. My boss gave me hell, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be there for her.

Only to find this.

Now, sitting in her apartment with a pile of dirty laundry and a million questions, I wondered if I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life.

Should I just play dumb?

Part of me wanted to ignore it, pretend nothing happened. Maybe if I just let it go, things would go back to normal. But I knew I couldn’t unsee what I’d found. Not a chance.

"Babe, you must’ve been waiting forever! I’m here!"

Autumn came bouncing out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, hair damp and curling around her face. She grinned at me, eyes bright, and dove onto the bed like a kid on Christmas morning.

It stunned me.

She grabbed a pillow, stuffed it under her waist, and stretched out in a pose straight out of a movie. I just stared, caught off guard by how quickly she’d changed gears.

We’d been together for so long—when did she learn that position?

I racked my brain, trying to remember if we’d ever done this before. Nothing. She’d always been a little shy, a little reserved. This was… new.

But Autumn acted like nothing was wrong, wrapped her arms around my head, and pulled me into her chest.

She giggled, her skin warm and soft against my cheek. I tried to relax, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Way off.

It was soft—really comfortable.

For a split second, I almost let myself forget. I closed my eyes, breathing her in, wishing everything could go back to how it used to be.

But when I looked closer, I realized she was a lot bigger than she was eight months ago.

Her body had changed—subtle, but impossible to miss. Curves fuller, chest heavier. The kind of thing you only notice after a long time apart.

Her clothes were thin, so it wasn’t obvious, but there was a slight dampness on her chest.

I caught a glimpse of a wet spot spreading across her shirt. My heart dropped. The evidence was right there, staring me in the face.

Seeing that, I finally realized—the bra from earlier wasn’t just a coincidence.

It all clicked. The stains, her body, the way she dodged certain topics. I felt like I was drowning in it.

Maybe she’d hooked up with someone eight months ago.

The timeline lined up—too perfectly. I clenched my fists, fighting to steady my breathing.

Autumn waited for me to make a move, but when I didn’t, she started teasing my shoulder with her toes.

She wiggled her foot, tracing circles on my arm. Normally, I’d laugh, but now it just made my skin crawl.

Her curves, which I’d always admired, now just made me sick.

I tried not to look, tried not to think about what she’d done. But the images kept coming—her with someone else, laughing at me behind my back.

I could practically picture her with another man.

It was like a movie I couldn’t shut off, every detail sharper than the last. My jaw clenched. I had to look away before I lost it.

The thought made my blood boil. I had to force down the urge to scream at her.

I bit my tongue, counted to ten. I didn’t trust myself to speak, not without blowing up.

I grabbed my jacket and practically ran out, tossing out a line as I left:

"Something urgent came up at work. I have to go in. Get some rest."

My voice sounded flat, even to me—like I was on autopilot. I didn’t wait for her answer. I just needed to get out, breathe, think.

After I left, Autumn didn’t even bother to call and check on me.

I kept checking my phone, half-hoping she’d text, half-dreading it. But nothing. Figures.

In her eyes, me working overtime to make money for her was just how it should be.

She’d always taken it for granted—the gifts, the late-night calls, the sacrifices. I was just the guy in the background, making her life easier.

She lived in an apartment under my name, but I was the one who felt kicked out.

I paid the rent, furnished the place, stocked the fridge. Now I was the outsider—the stranger in my own life.

After taking in so much in one night, my mind was a mess.

I sat in my car, engine off, staring at the dashboard. My hands shook as I tried to process everything. I barely recognized myself.