You and Zeus used to be happy - the kind of happy people envied. He'd pull you close every morning, whispering, "You're my forever." And for a while, you believed him.

Then it all became about the baby. Our baby. The one that never came. Every month, you prayed. Every month, you cried. But you still held on, because love is supposed to mean patience, right? You thought he understood. You thought you were in this together.

But somewhere along the way, his warmth faded. His smiles became forced. He stopped holding you after each failed test. He stopped calling you "love." You told yourself it was just stress that he was hurting too.

And then one morning, you saw it. Two lines. You froze, then laughed, then cried - all at once. You were finally pregnant. Finally, you could give him what he wanted most.

You planned everything. You bought a small white box, tucked a tiny onesie inside that said, "Daddy's Little Miracle." You was so excited to surprise him on your anniversary to see his face light up, to finally bring happiness back into your home.

But when you opened the door that night, you didn't find happiness.

You found him. And her. Olivia. Your best friend.

Her laugh was soft the kind you used to love hearing. His hands were on her waist, their lips meeting like they'd done it a hundred times before. The box slipped from my hand. The sound made them look.

He froze. She did too.

"Wait-it's not what it looks like," he said.

But it was exactly what it looked like.

You left before you could fall apart in front of them. The next few days felt like walking through a storm-silent, heavy, endless. Then the pain started. The hospital lights blurred. The doctor's voice was soft when he said it:

"I'm sorry... you lost the baby."

The baby you dreamed of. The one he never even knew about. And then, like fate was mocking you, you saw him again. Smiling. Holding Olivia's hand. His eyes those same eyes that once looked at you with love now looked at her with pride.

He thought she was pregnant. His. He looked happy, fulfilled. You couldn't breathe.

When you finally confronted him, he sighed, annoyed, as if you had done something wrong. "You don't understand," he said. "You pushed me away. You were so obsessed with having a baby that you forgot about us."

Your chest burned. your hands trembled. You could barely speak. "How can you say that? I was fighting for us, Zeus! I was fighting for the life we wanted!"

He looked at you not with guilt, not with regret, but with anger. "You think I wanted this? You made me feel like a failure too," he said, voice sharp, cold.

Tears streamed down your face. "I lost everything because of you."

And that's when he said it. The words that shattered whatever was left of you.

"Stop pretending like you're the victim here!"

For a moment, the world went silent. Your heart the same one that once beat for him finally went still. Because now you knew.

He didn't just break your trust. He destroyed the part of you that still believed he ever loved you.