Chapter 1

I've suffered from severe insomnia since I was a kid.

Because of that, my boyfriend recorded bedtime stories for me every single night to help me fall asleep.

They were usually old, corny stories, but coming from him, they always felt sweet.

Even before he left on a week-long business trip, he made sure to record them in advance.

Before he walked out the door, he wrapped his arms around me and whispered:

"I recorded three stories."

"Promise me you'll listen to one every night."

I teased him for being paranoid.

"You made them for me. Why wouldn't I listen?"

He just stared at me, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

On the first night after his flight took off, I curled into bed and eagerly hit play on the first audio file.

His familiar, warm, magnetic voice came through the speakers.

"Story number one. Dedicated to my dearest girlfriend."

I couldn't help but smile, thinking how cheesy he was being.

Then came the next sentence:

"I have a child."

"With your best friend."

After dropping that bomb, the recording paused for several seconds.

As if giving me time to process it.

My immediate reaction was that my boyfriend, Noah, was playing a sick joke.

I reached for my phone to text him.

To tell him he had crossed the line.

There was no way my best friend would team up with my boyfriend to betray me.

A second later, a woman's voice shattered my denial.

When I saw her yesterday, she said she was flying home to visit her parents.

Now, Chloe's voice was as soft and sweet as ever:

"By the time you hear this, we'll probably be at the clinic for the baby's checkup."

"I'm three months along now. It's a critical window."

"So..." She gave a soft laugh. "Don't try to contact us right now. Don't ruin our mood."

Then Noah's voice cut back in:

"It's rare that we get to be together without hiding from you."

"Just give us this holiday week to be together, okay?"

Thud.

My phone slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

I froze, completely numb.

The audio kept playing.

Noah sounded resigned, almost pitiful.

"Maya, I didn't want to hurt you."

"Chloe and I have been together for five years. If it weren't for this baby, we wouldn't have come clean."

Tears instantly blurred my vision.

Five years.

Noah and I had been together for seven.

That meant he only loved me for a fleeting couple of years.

The rest was a lie.

Chloe chimed in, using the same playful tone she always used with me:

"I was actually planning to be your maid of honor for the wedding next month, but this baby completely threw off our plans."

She sighed in mock annoyance:

"If Noah hadn't lost control, I wouldn't have gotten pregnant right before your wedding."

"Maya, you'll forgive me, right?"

"I mean, you're still going to be the godmother!"

She was quoting our late-night girl-talk promises.

We used to swear that whoever had a baby first, the other would be the godmother.

I never imagined the child she carried would belong to my fiancé.

"We didn't want to tell you this way," Noah sighed. "But your temper is so volatile."

"If we told you to your face, I was terrified you'd hurt Chloe."

He sounded melancholy.

As if he were casually complaining about a bad meal.

Yet he forgot—the only reason I ever developed a fierce temper was to protect him.

We grew up in the same foster home.

His family went bankrupt, leaving him with nowhere to go. Because he was quiet and withdrawn, the other kids constantly picked on him.

I was the one who threw punches, standing between him and the bullies every single time.

Because of that, the kids retaliated against me.

Night after night, they poured buckets of ice-cold water onto my bed while I tried to rest.

For years, I was terrified to close my eyes, which triggered my severe insomnia.

That was why Noah started telling me bedtime stories to soothe me to sleep.

Now, in that very bedtime story, he was telling me he feared my temper would hurt his precious Chloe.

He was heartless.

The audio droned on.

I couldn't stomach another syllable.

I slammed the pause button.

His prediction before leaving was spot on.

I truly didn't want to hear his stories anymore.

I crawled under the covers and let the tears soak into the pillow.

It felt like I was back on that soaked, freezing mattress in the group home.

Except this time, Noah's gentle voice wouldn't lull me to sleep.

It had turned my sleepless nights into a living nightmare.