You stood outside his study, heart pounding as you clutched the evidence — the plane tickets with both his and Aurora’s names. A strange numbness washed over you, suppressing the ache as you pushed open the door. Johnathan was there, calmly packing up papers, his expression cold and indifferent, like he had already closed the chapter of his life that had you in it.

He looked up when he heard you but didn’t speak. You held up the tickets, a silent question hanging in the air, yet you knew the answer. There was no guilt in his eyes, no hesitation, just a faint hint of annoyance that you’d interrupted his carefully laid plans.

“It’s done,” he said flatly, as if that was explanation enough. “I’m leaving with Aurora and Well, it’s better this way.”

For a moment, you wanted to scream, to throw the tickets at him, to demand some acknowledgment of the years you’d spent together, however empty they might have been. But as you opened your mouth, words failed you. Instead, the weight of the secret you’d been keeping grew heavier. You could feel your hands tremble as you laid a protective hand over your stomach, a protective gesture he never noticed.

Without another word, you turned and left. The silence in your chest echoed louder than any words you could have mustered.

You would be facing this next chapter alone, and maybe that was how it was meant to be.