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I walked in on my fiancé and my best friend in my bed. He didn't even flinch. Just lit a c!g@rette and said, ""You're never around, Sierra."" I turned her from a chicken coop girl into a teacher. She used to call me her savior. Now she was wearing my sheets. His voice note was still playing on her computer. ""Bring a few more boxes of c0nd-ms, sweetie."" My hands stopped shaking. I grabbed my keys and drove to the hospital. Not to cry. To save a stranger's life. Three months later, I found her in the ER. Pr3gn-nt. His b@by. The same night he was ""on a business trip""? I drove through an earthquake looking for him. Lost my own child on that road. He never even knew. Now he shoved me to the floor to protect her. Didn't look back once. I stood up. Dusted off my white coat. Walked to my desk. Ripped up our wedding leave. Signed my name on a deployment to London. Then I printed everything. The photos. The texts. The comments from our friends laughing behind my back. Five envelopes. His office. Her school. His mother. The press. And one special delivery for his board of directors. My plane took off at midnight. My phone hasn't stopped buzzing since. One last message lit up the screen. It wasn't from him. It was from his mother. [You have no idea what you just started.] "I turned my best friend from a small-town farm girl into a respected teacher. Now, she looked radiant and carried herself with elegance. No one could tell that five years ago, she was still picking eggs in a chicken coop. Yet she remained as frugal as ever, always saying that not a single penny should be wasted. So, whenever I was too busy with work, she took everything off my hands—the couple's vacation vouchers I won, the expiring movie tickets, and the reservations at romantic restaurants. My boyfriend, Finnley Ashford, never complained about me breaking our dates. ""I've always got your back when it comes to your work,"" he said, ""no matter how long it takes, I'll wait
