Hannah’s Goodbye [POV: Hannah]
The house was quiet, but not the comforting kind of quiet she used to crave. This was the kind of silence that felt empty
She sat at the dining table, staring down at the divorce papers, the weight of them pressing against her chest.
The end.
Not just of her marriage, but of the life she had spent time trying to mold into something real.
Her hand drifted to her belly, tracing soft circles over the slight swell beneath her dress. She could feel the faintest of movements now, little reminders that no matter what happened, she wasn’t alone.
“It’s just you and me now,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she wiped it away quickly.
She had known this moment was coming ever since that night.
The night Vincent found out.
***
She had watched him read the results, his eyes scanning the paper in slow, measured movements. His face had been unreadable at first, but then his hands tightened around the document, knuckles turning white.
His silence was worse than yelling.
Worse than anything he could have said.
“This isn’t true,” she had blurted, shaking her head. “Vincent, someone made a mistake. This isn’t true.”
He didn’t look at her. Didn’t react. He just kept s
Her pulse pounded. “Where did you even get this?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said flatly.
Something about his voice—the complete lack of emotion in it—made her stomach lurch.
Her mind scrambled for a foothold, some way to dismiss this, some lie
Then a thought struck her, and the words slipped out before she could stop them.
“Oh, that bitch.” Her voice shook with fury. “I knew she didn’t like me. That OB-GYN must have altered the results. I’ll sue her. I’ll—”
“Hannah.”
His voice cut through hers, sharp enough to make her freeze.
He finally looked at her then, his eyes cold.
“Your OB-GYN isn’t lying,” he said. “Because that OB-GYN is my ex-fiancée.”
The room tilted.
The air thickened.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
No. No. That wasn’t possible.
It took a second—a long, agonizing second—before her mind caught up, before she understood exactly what he was saying.
Dr. Abigail Jones.
The woman who had handed her the results. The woman who had looked at her with barely concealed disgust.
The woman whose name had been printed at the bottom of her medical records.
She had barely looked at the paperwork when she received it, too consumed by her own problems, too focused on keeping Vincent from slipping through her fingers.
But now, it all clicked.
Her OB-GYN.
Vincent’s ex-fiancée.
The woman he had almost married. The woman whose place she had stolen.
No wonder Abigail had been so calm when she delivered the truth. She had probably been waiting for this moment, waiting for the chance to ruin her.
Hannah let out a sharp, breathless laugh. “Of course,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “Of course, it was her.”
Vincent exhaled, setting the paper down on the table. “It doesn’t matter who told me, Hannah. The only thing that matters is that it’s true.”
She hated the way he said it. Like he had finally given up. Like this was just another box to check off before he walked out of her life forever.
But worst of all, she hated that deep down, some part of her had already known.
She had felt it the moment she saw the test results.
She had just refused to believe it.
She had lied to herself the same way she had lied to Vincent.
And now, it was over.
***
Now, as she sat at the table staring at the divorce papers, the finality of it settled into her bones.
She let out a slow breath and reached for the pen.
This time, she didn’t hesitate.
With a single stroke, she signed her name beside his, sealing the decision she should have made months ago.
Her gaze fell to the manila folder on the counter—her medical records, the ones she had picked up from the clinic earlier that day.
She stared at the name printed at the bottom of the documents.
Dr. Abigail Jones.
She ran her fingers over the letters, almost laughing at the cruel twist of fate.
For months, she had convinced herself that Abigail had won, that she had taken Vincent back in the end.
But now, she wasn’t so sure.
Because looking back, there had been no victory.
No stolen happiness.
Just three people left standing in the wreckage of a life that none of them had planned for.
She reached for her small suitcase by the door, the only bag she had packed, the only things she truly needed.
Her hand brushed over her stomach once more, a silent promise to the tiny life inside her.
Then, without another glance at the house she had tried to make hers, she walked out.
She wouldn’t ruin Vincent Austin any further.
And she wouldn’t let him ruin her either.
