Eight months after the divorce, my phone buzzed with his name. “Come to my wedding,” he said, smug as ever. “She’s preg.nant—unlike you.” I froze, fingers tightening around the hospital sheet.
Eight months after our divorce was finalized, my phone lit up with his name.“Come to my wedding,” he said the second I answered, sounding as arrogant as the day he left. “My fiancée is pregnant. She’s giving me the family you never could.”I went completely still, my fingers tightening around the hospital blanket.The room smelled…
