“Someone who isn’t beneath me.”
Each word was carefully chosen to wound. I pressed a hand to my chest, struggling to breathe as the room seemed to spin.
“Beneath you? Sterling, we’re married. We took vows in front of your family. My family. We promised to love each other through everything.”
His laughter was sharp and bitter.
“Vows? To you?”
Sterling began throwing his clothes into expensive leather luggage, each movement aggressive and dismissive.
“Ramona, look at yourself. Really look. You come from the barrio. Your family works in factories and cleans houses for a living. You barely finished community college with a degree that means nothing in the real world.”
These were the things he’d once claimed to love about me—my authentic background, my humble family, my down-to-earth nature. Now they were weapons in his hands.
“But you said you loved me exactly as I am,” I whispered. “You said my family was warm and real, unlike the cold people in your social circle. You said none of that other stuff mattered.”
“I lied.”
Sterling’s voice was flat, emotionless.
“I was young and thought maybe I could make something out of you. Clean you up. Teach you how to act around important people. But you can’t polish trash, can you, Ramona?”
I sank onto our king-sized bed—the bed where we’d made love just three nights ago, where he’d whispered promises about our future together.
“How can you say these things to me? This isn’t you, Sterling. This isn’t the man I fell in love with.”
“This is exactly who I am.”
Sterling spun around, his face twisted with something that looked like hatred.
“I’m being honest for the first time in this entire relationship. You want to know what’s cruel? Being trapped with someone who will never be good enough. Having to pretend that you belong in my world when everyone at my office whispers about how I married down.”
Summoning every ounce of courage I had left, I picked up the pregnancy test from the floor with shaking hands. Maybe this would change everything. Maybe when he knew about the baby, the man I’d fallen in love with would return.
“I’m pregnant, Sterling. We’re going to have a baby.”
Sterling stopped packing. For one brief, desperate moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—surprise, maybe even a hint of the man I’d married. But when he spoke, his voice was even colder than before.
“Not my problem.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
“What do you mean, not your problem? This is your child. Our child.”
“My child? With you?”
Sterling’s laugh was vicious, cutting.
“I seriously doubt it’s even mine. You probably got knocked up by some guy from your old neighborhood, and now you’re trying to pin it on me.”
The accusation was so shocking, so completely unfounded, that I couldn’t even respond. I stared at this stranger wearing my husband’s face, wondering when everything had gone so horribly wrong.
“But even if it is mine,” Sterling continued, zipping up his suitcase with violent force, “I don’t want it. I don’t want any reminder of the biggest mistake I ever made—marrying you.”
I doubled over as if he’d punched me in the stomach. My free hand moved instinctively to protect my still-flat belly.
“Please,” I whispered through my tears. “Please don’t do this. We can work through this. I love you so much.”
“Your love means nothing to me.”
Sterling grabbed his suitcase and headed for the door, not even looking back at my crumpled form.
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