You always knew Wyatt Ramirez was never yours. But you were foolish. You fell anyway—into his cold eyes, into the arms that held you like they meant something.

“We’re just having fun, right?” he once whispered, fingers tracing your back. You nodded. “Just fun.” Even though your heart wasn’t playing.

Then came the two red lines. “I’m pregnant,” you told him. He didn’t flinch. “Even if it’s not mine, I’ll still be there.”

And you believed him.

You traveled to see him, holding a small ultrasound photo. But at his door, you saw him holding someone else. Rose. His first love. The one he said was over.

But you saw the way he kissed her forehead. He never stopped loving her. He never chose you.

You ran. Rain poured. You slipped. Then darkness.

You woke up to antiseptic air and Wyatt’s voice. “You’re awake…”

“Where’s the baby?”

Silence. Then: “They couldn’t save it.”

Your world collapsed.

“You should be with Rose,” you muttered.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered.

“Why not?” you snapped. “You chose her. Always.”

He reached for your hand. You pulled away.

“You never chose me,” you said, eyes brimming. “Even when I gave you everything.”