Westley You Are Late Chapter 08
The day exhaustion landed me in the ER, Westley had stood by my bed with red-rimmed eyes. “Stop fighting for it, okay? Just forget the project.”
I’d shaken my head.
“I have to get it.”
After that, he’d stopped trying to talk me out of it. He even stayed up with me, helping me sort through research and organize data.
No one knew better than him how much that project meant to me.
And yet, just to appease another woman, he was still asking me to give it up.
Looking at the man who had once promised to be good to me, I was struck by the sheer absurdity of it all.
“Whether it’s important or not, what does it have to do with you?”
Westley looked at me as if he’d misheard.
“What did you just say?”
Fighting a wave of dizziness, I straightened my shoulders.
“Let’s break up.”
My gaze swept over the hand Sofia had placed so protectively on her stomach.
“You’re already taking another woman to her prenatal appointments. Do you really expect me to just trail after you and pretend none of this is happening?”
This wasn’t the first time I’d brought up breaking up.
Every other time, he had found a way to coax me back.
But I knew this time was different.
He was silent for a long time.
Long enough that I thought he might finally agree.
Instead, he just looked away, his voice hard, leaving no room for argument.
“Sofia’s not feeling well. I’m taking her home. We’ll talk about this later.”
He never came back to talk.
Or rather, he never had the time.
A few days later, he flew to St. Barts with Sofia.
I was being wheeled into the operating room when I got the news.
The surgical lights overhead were blinding.
I sent him one last text.
“Let’s break up. There’s no point in dragging this out.”
His reply was almost immediate.
“Suit yourself.”
Two words. Clean and final.
We never spoke again after that.
Which is why, even now, he had no idea I was already married.