Chapter 68 Chapter 23.2
Heaven returned to their house early that morning. Her steps were slow, each movement strained, her stitches were still fresh, and even breathing too deeply tugged painfully at her abdomen. She checked the kitchen first, expecting to find Desmond preparing breakfast the way he usually did, but the room was empty.
Maybe he was still asleep, she told herself.
Even though climbing the stairs felt like scaling a mountain, she forced her aching legs upward one step at a time. She opened their bedroom door, no Desmond. Confusion crept into her chest. Did he leave for the company this early?
She checked the nursery next, pushing the door open quietly, but the room was just as silent as she had left it.
He’s not here either…
Heaven returned to their bedroom and slowly lowered herself onto the bed. She took her bag, pulled out her phone, and switched on the Wi-Fi. Immediately, her notifications began flooding in.
She was about to call Desmond when a message caught her eye.
A photo.
Her heart dropped.
She opened it and froze. Her hands trembled violently as she zoomed in.
Desmond
and Macie…
On the same bed.
Desmond’s eyes were closed, his body bare under the blanket. Macie was beside him, also unclothed, her arm draped over him.
Heaven slapped a hand over her mouth as a broken sob escaped. The room blurred as tears welled up again, fresh, raw, and merciless.
How could he?
How could Desmond do this to her now?
Their child had just died. Their world had barely stopped bleeding. And yet…
Desmond was already in another woman’s arms.
Her chest constricted painfully, a sharp, twisting ache that made her curl forward. She pressed a trembling palm over her heart, as if she could stop it from tearing apart.
Her quiet sobs turned into agonized cries.
Had Desmond been waiting for this? Waiting for their child—his responsibility—to disappear so he could finally run back to Macie?
Was that all she was to him?
A burden?
A mistake?
“Is that it?” Heaven choked out, her voice trembling. “Did you just… forget about our baby? Already? How could you?!”
Her stitches pulled painfully each time her body shook, but she couldn’t stop. Her eyes were swollen, her throat raw.
What had she done wrong?
Why was everything being taken away from her?
One night. She had been gone for one night. And her husband had already found comfort in another woman's bed. Had he ever mourned for their child? Had he even cried?
Heaven let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh—an unhinged reaction to the storm inside her head. The betrayal was too big, too heavy, too cruel to make sense.
Her fingers curled tightly into fists as something inside her snapped.
Macie.
She remembered the slap… the shove… the fall down the stairs.
If Macie hadn’t hit her—
If she hadn’t stepped back—
If she hadn’t fallen—
Their child would still be alive.
And now Macie had taken Desmond too?
“Wasn’t it enough?” Heaven whispered through clenched teeth. “You killed my baby… now you want my husband too?! You monsters. Both of you!”
Her sobs grew harsher, her breathing unstable. In the pit of her despair, the darkest part of her mind whispered:
Did they plan this?
Did Desmond and Macie plan everything?
\---
Desmond awoke to a throbbing headache, the kind that felt like someone was hammering inside his skull. He groaned, rubbing his temples as fragments of last night flickered hazily in his mind. How did he even leave the bar? Who brought him out?
He blinked, scanning the room.
This isn’t home.
Then something shifted beside him.
He snapped his head to the side—and his blood ran cold.
Macie.
Sleeping beside him.
“Oh, fuck,” Desmond whispered, dread crashing over him. He looked down at himself, no clothes. His stomach tightened painfully. He tried to remember, anything, but his memory was nothing but shards.
He stumbled out of bed, grabbing his clothes off the floor. He cursed under his breath again and again, barely holding himself together.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
He only wanted to drink.
He only wanted to forget the pain for a few hours.
When Macie felt the bed move, she sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest.
“Desmond…” her voice was soft and hoarse.
“What happened?” Desmond snapped, panic edging his words. “Why are you here? What did you do?!”
Macie flinched, hugging herself.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she whispered. “Why are you dressing so fast? Are you leaving already?”
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m married?!” Desmond shouted. “We can never be together again. I’m not going to cheat on my wife!”
“Why are you blaming me?” Macie shot back. “We both wanted it! You kissed me first, you were the one who insisted we do it. Now you’re acting like I forced you!”
Desmond dragged a hand through his hair angrily.
“How could that happen when I was passed out drunk?!” he snapped. “How many times do I have to say it, Macie? I choose Heaven. I love Heaven. I let you go so you could chase your dreams. What more do you want?!”
“You,” Macie cried. “I want you! How am I supposed to live without you, Desmond? Why was it so easy for you to forget me? I told you, one last contract, and I’d come back to you. But you chose her! I love you, Desmond. I still do. I can’t accept being replaced by that woman. She is nobody!”
Desmond’s jaw tightened.
“She is not nobody,” he said coldly. “Heaven is my wife. She is everything to me now. And if I have to lose someone, Macie—it will be you, not her.”
He didn’t wait for her reply.
He left.
Macie’s tears fell freely, each one sharp as a blade.
Five years together.
Destroyed by one woman.
She grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room, screaming in frustration.
Meanwhile, Desmond sped home, desperate to change, desperate to find Heaven. He needed to explain. He needed her to believe him. He needed her.
When he opened their bedroom door, he froze.
Heaven was there.
Asleep on their bed.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyelids swollen from crying. Desmond’s chest tightened painfully. She must have come home last night. Or this morning.
He ran a hand over his face, filled with regret.
If only he hadn’t gone to the bar.
If only he had stayed home.
If only he had been smarter.
Maybe he wouldn’t be standing here now, watching the woman he loved—broken, hurting—because of him.
And because of one unforgivable mistake.