"Sometimes, love doesn't leave because of fate — it leaves because of wounds that were never explained."
*****
(Brianna's POV)
The afternoon light streamed gently through the restaurant windows — soft, golden, and almost too calm for what my heart was about to remember.
I closed the small notebook resting on the cashier's counter and exhaled slowly.
This place was mine — my first business, long before I ever built the foundation.
Next week, it would host the charity event I'd been preparing for months.
That's why I came today — to make sure everything was ready.
The renovation was almost done.
Tables were neatly arranged, sunlight spilling across the polished floor, and the faint scent of fresh paint still lingered in the air.
In the glass reflection, I caught a glimpse of myself — a tired smile, the kind that hides everything it can't fix.
After checking everything and saying goodbye to the staff, I headed to the foundation.
Ella must've come home from school by now… and she'd be looking for me.
When I arrived, Anya was at the reception desk, her usual warm smile greeting me.
"Anya," I called softly. "Has Ella come back from school?"
"Yes, Mrs. Brianna."
"Where is she now?"
"She's in the art room. Oh, and—Mr. Brayden stopped by earlier. He was looking for you. I think he's still there."
My breath caught.
It felt as though something invisible had wrapped tightly around my ribs and refused to let go.
"What… was he looking for?" My voice came out thinner than I intended.
"I'm not sure," Anya said. "Maybe you should talk to him directly. It seemed important."
Of course, she didn't know.
She had no idea about the history Brayden and I once shared — the past that still bruised every part of me that dared to feel.
That was why she could say his name so easily, so casually — without the tremor that now ran through my veins.
Without another word, I walked quickly down the corridor toward the art room.
Each step felt heavier.
Each second echoed too loudly.
Inside, my heart whispered a desperate prayer — Please, don't let them meet.
But that fragile hope shattered the moment I reached the door.
Brayden was there.
Sitting beside Ella.
My daughter.
They were laughing softly.
And Ella was looking up at him with that light — the same light I used to have when I looked at that man seven years ago.
I froze.
The air left my lungs in pieces.
He didn't know.
He had no idea that the little girl sitting next to him carried his blood — his smile.
My hand tightened around the doorknob, knuckles pale.
Every instinct screamed to go in, to say something.
But I couldn't.
I couldn't face the two people who meant everything to me — not when one of them was the reason my world had once fallen apart.
So I turned around.
And walked away before the sound of my heartbeat broke completely.
My steps were quick, but my tears were quicker.
And in the silence of that empty hallway, memories from seven years ago came flooding back — cruel, vivid, uninvited.
I once believed love could heal anything.
But that night, I learned — love could also be the sweetest poison.
The kind that kills you slowly, beautifully, until you mistake the pain for devotion.
*****
Seven Years Ago
Something had felt strange for days.
Nausea. Fatigue.
And my period was late.
Worry pushed me to see a doctor.
The result froze my world.
"Congratulations," the doctor said gently. "You're pregnant."
I blinked, the word echoing in my head. Pregnant?
My hand instinctively touched my still-flat stomach.
And then came the memory — that night.
The night I was with Brayden… my fiancé.
Not even a month had passed since then.
I left the clinic in silence, my mind spinning.
Still, I needed to be sure.
I bought a test kit — and when two red lines appeared, I couldn't deny it anymore.
I was really pregnant.
That night, I decided to tell him.
I knew his apartment code — I'd made him tell me once, even though he didn't want to.
But when I reached his door, his voice stopped me cold.
Low. Calm. Unaware that every word he spoke would destroy something inside me.
"I never loved her."
The world stopped.
Even breathing felt like a sin.
"Bro, are you seriously going through with the wedding with Brianna?"
"You think I have a choice? Our fathers arranged everything. I can't say no."
"But come on, man—have you two even been, like, an actual couple?"
Brayden laughed — short, careless.
"Do I look like I had a choice? Brianna's stubborn as hell. I never loved her. And even if we did get married, I'd never have a kid with her. I don't want a child from something forced."
The test kit in my hand trembled violently.
And then… tears fell — slow at first, then unstoppable.
I came to tell him good news.
Instead, I found my reason to disappear.
Step by step, breath by breath, I backed away — silent, invisible, until I reached my car.
And there, I broke. Completely.
I thought heartbreak had limits.
I was wrong.
*****
That Night
The door slammed behind me, echoing through the empty house.
For the first time, I stopped pretending to be strong.
My sobs filled the silence — trembling at first, then louder, until even I was afraid of the sound.
"What did I do wrong for loving him?"
"Why does love have to hurt this much?"
I pressed a trembling palm to my stomach — where a tiny, innocent life was quietly growing.
"What am I supposed to do now?"
Tears blurred everything.
I was scared. Lost. Utterly alone.
A knock broke the silence.
My mother — Sinta — stood there, worry written across her face.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong? I heard you crying."
I bit my lip, unable to speak.
But when she pulled me into her arms, everything spilled out — the tears, the fear, the truth I didn't know how to say.
After a while, she looked into my eyes.
"What happened, Brianna?"
I took a shaky breath.
"I want to break off my engagement with Brayden. And I… I won't attend graduation."
"What?" Her eyes widened. "Brianna, why so suddenly?"
I shook my head. "I can't explain, Mom. I just… need to leave."
She was silent for a long moment. Then, softly, "Alright. If that's what you want, I'll help you."
But when she opened the drawer to pack my things, her hand froze — on a pregnancy test.
Two red lines.
Her body stiffened.
"Brianna…" her voice cracked. "You're pregnant?"
I stayed quiet, then nodded slowly.
Before she could say another word, the door opened.
My father stood there — face unreadable.
"What's going on?"
Mom turned toward him, her eyes glassy. "She's pregnant."
He looked straight at me. "Who's the father?"
"Brayden."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating.
"Does he know?"
"No. And I'm not going to tell him."
He exhaled slowly. "You still plan to leave?"
"Yes," I whispered. "I want to start a new life."
He closed his eyes, his voice low.
"If that's your choice… then go. But remember—if you ever grow tired, come home."
*****
The Next Morning
At the airport, Mom hugged me tightly.
"Take care of yourself, sweetheart."
Dad placed a firm hand on my shoulder — the kind of gesture that said everything words couldn't.
"You'll get through this."
The boarding announcement echoed overhead.
I walked toward the gate, glancing back one last time.
"Goodbye…"
From the plane window, the city I loved grew smaller and smaller.
I pressed a hand gently over my stomach.
"We're going to start a new life, my little one."
And then I closed my eyes, letting the plane carry us away —
from love,
from pain,
and from the goodbye I never wanted to say.
The same afternoon light touched my eyes again —
soft, golden, and distant.
Only this time,
I wasn't looking back.
I was finally leaving it behind.