Time Paused Between Silent Moments by Aven Slate 1
When the nurse asked where my family was, I instinctively made an excuse for him.
I lay alone on the examination table, feeling a life silently slip away from inside me.
I opened my phone, only to see his best friend Mark had just updated his Instagram:
“Life is so much easier without the babysitter checking in. James is just the best to Emily.”
The photo showed James gazing tenderly at his childhood sweetheart Emily, who lay in a hospital bed.
I liked the post. It was deleted almost immediately.
A text from James followed right after, carefully explaining.
I just replied calmly, “Have fun.”
James panicked. “Luna, why aren’t you asking who I’m with?”
…
I’d twisted my ankle falling down the stairs of my apartment building, rushing home for our wedding anniversary.
I’d texted James, hoping he could pick me up from work.
I waited for him eagerly, wanting to give him the flowers myself.
But he only replied coldly: “Working late. Get yourself something to eat.”
As if afraid I’d suspect something, he added, “No one sketchy. Just the same old friends from way back.”
I felt like I’d been doused with ice water from head to toe. I threw the flowers in the trash and took a cab to the hospital.
The doctor asked where my family was. Instinctively, I said, “He’s in a meeting.”
The words sounded pathetic even to me.
So I changed my answer. “Sorry. I’m a widow.”
The abortion went smoothly. I didn’t feel much physical pain, just an empty hollowness inside, as if a piece of me had been carved out.
On the cab ride home, I saw his familiar SUV heading toward the hospital on the west side of town.
I instinctively wanted to text and ask if something was wrong.
But then I saw Mark’s post first: “Life is so much easier without the babysitter checking in. James is just the best to Emily.”
In the picture, James was looking tenderly at Emily in her hospital bed.
That was his little crew, the one he grew up with. Four guys, one girl.
In that group, he and Emily were the golden couple everyone expected.
If Emily hadn’t, in a moment of foolishness, married that speculator and moved out of state, it would never have been my turn to marry James.
Later, Emily divorced and returned to town with her son. I became the villain who had broken up the fairy-tale couple.
They never blamed Emily for leaving. They only resented me for coming between them.
Their little group partied hard, often drinking until two or three in the morning. Worried about James’s stomach, I’d always call to urge him home.
Over time, they grew to dislike me more and more, thinking my check-ins were a buzzkill. They secretly gave me the nickname “the babysitter.”
When they visited our home, they treated me like hired help.
Today, James chose them over me, yet again.
Maybe it was for the best. At least I wouldn’t soften anymore.
I liked the post. It was quickly deleted, as if they’d just remembered to block me.
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.
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