The Final Fitting
Language: en
The night before my wedding, I walked into my fiancé's apartment and found him entangled with the younger sister of his so-called "savior." The woman was wrapped in the red silk quilt I had bought for our honeymoon, the flush of passion still clinging to the corners of her eyes. I slammed my ultrasound sonogram onto his chest, my voice shaking. "Do you still want this baby or not?" He sat on the edge of the bed and chain-smoked half the night away. As dawn broke, he crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and looked up at me. "She is just an obligation. You are the one I love." For the…