THE ISOLATION

~CLAIRE’S POV~

Monica’s smile stretched wider as she took in the signed divorce papers scattered across my hospital bed.

“Claire, honey,” she purred, settling into the chair Richard had vacated. “I came as soon as I heard. How are you feeling?”

Her voice dripped with false concern, but her eyes glittered with triumph. She was practically glowing, her designer dress hugging curves that had stolen my husband.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t look fine.” Monica reached for my hand, her touch making my skin crawl. “I know this must be so hard for you. But sometimes these things happen for a reason, you know?”

‘For a reason.’ Like she had not orchestrated every moment of my destruction.

“Richard told me about the divorce,” she continued, her fingers tracing the edge of the papers. “He said you were… understanding about everything.”

Understanding. Like I had had a choice.

“Monica…..”

“I have something to tell you,” she interrupted, her hand moving to her still-flat stomach. “Something wonderful. I’m pregnant, Claire.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. My vision blurred, and the machines around me seemed to scream louder.

“Pregnant?” The word rasped out of my throat.

“Eight weeks,” she said, her voice soft with fake defenselessness. “We found out yesterday. Right before… well, before everything happened with you.”

Eight weeks.

They had been together for at least eight weeks while I had been playing the perfect wife, cooking his favorite meals, ironing his shirts, believing his lies about working late.

“Richard is so excited,” Monica continued, twisting the knife deeper. “He says he’s always wanted to be a father. He’s already talking about names and nursery colors.”

‘He’s always wanted to be a father.’

But he had never mentioned wanting children with me. Never brought up the future we’d supposedly been building together.

“I wanted you to hear it from me first,” she said, squeezing my hand. “Before the lawyer meeting at Eleanor’s house tomorrow. I know this is a lot to process, but I hope… I hope we can still be friends through all of this.”

‘Friends.’ The woman who had destroyed my marriage wanted to be friends.

“I should go,” Monica said, standing gracefully. “Richard is waiting for me in the car. But Claire…” She leaned down, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“I want you to know that I never meant for it to happen this way. Richard and I just… we couldn’t fight what we felt. Sometimes love just finds you, you know?”

Love. She called what they had love.

“Take care of yourself, honey,” she said, pressing a kiss to my forehead that felt like a brand.

“And don’t worry about tomorrow. Richard’s lawyer will handle everything. You won’t have to say much.”

Then she was gone, leaving me alone with the truth that cut deeper than any of Richard’s cruel words.

They were having a baby. The future I had dreamed of was happening—just not with me.

********************

The next morning, I sat in Eleanor Blackwood’s wealthy living room, feeling like a ghost haunting my own life. My parents flanked me on the burgundy sofa, their faces tight with barely contained anger and shame.

Richard sat across from us, his arm casually draped around Monica’s shoulders.

She leaned into him with skillful relaxation, her hand resting on her stomach in a sign that was both protective and possessive.

Eleanor’s lawyer sat at the mahogany desk, papers spread before him like weapons.

But all I could focus on was the way Richard’s fingers traced absent patterns on Monica’s arm…..the same way he used to touch me.

“I still don’t understand,” Eleanor said, her voice sharp with confusion. “Richard, you and Claire seemed so happy. What happened?”

Richard’s sea-blue eyes found mine across the room. They were cold, empty, like looking into a frozen lake.

“I got tired of her,” he said simply, never wavering from my gaze. “The constant need for validation. The way she made everything about her feelings. I outgrew her.”

‘Outgrew her.’ Like I was a phase he had moved past.

“Richard,” Eleanor’s voice held a warning.

“What?” He shrugged, his arm tightening around Monica. “You want the truth? Claire was suffocating me. She had no identity outside of being my wife. No interests, no friends, no life. She was like a parasite feeding off my success.”

My father’s hands clenched into fists. “That’s enough.”

“Is it?” Richard’s laugh was cold. “You asked what happened. I’m telling you. Your daughter was useless. Completely and utterly useless.”

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify