During the years Chase pursued me, his greatest trigger was when anyone brought up our six-year age gap. Someone would tease him at a bar, laughing about how he’d bagged himself an "older woman." His face would instantly turn to stone. "I don't care that she's older," he'd snap, his voice tight. "I only hate that I wasn't born a few years earlier so I could have had more time with her." But then his company started growing, and a new, young assistant came along. He began taking her to galas, drinking the cocktails meant for her, and teaching her how to close deals. When I asked him why he wasn't taking me anymore, he didn't even look up from his phone. "Georgia, you're thirty-six. Staying up late at those events is hell on your skin. Besides, Piper is young. She has this energy, this vibrancy. She looks right standing next to me." Then he added, "Don't overthink it. No matter how young she is, she could never touch your place as my wife." But that girl—the one who supposedly couldn't touch my place—wore my custom couture, lived in my apartment, and handed me my own positive pregnancy test with a sweet, mocking smile: "Georgia, isn't pregnancy incredibly risky at your age?" Later, she pushed me down the stairs. Lying in a pool of blood, I heard her call Chase. "Chase, Georgia is throwing another tantrum. I'm so scared." That day, the baby Chase and I had spent three painful years trying for... was gone. I mailed him the pathology report and the divorce papers, then vanished the night before his company’s IPO bell-ringing ceremony. … The courier arrived to pick up the package while it was pouring outside. I handed him the heavy manila envelope. He glanced at the recipient's name. "Chase Jenson?" "Yes." "Do you want to declare a value for insurance?" "No need." There were only three sheets of paper inside. A miscarriage report. A signed divorce petition. And a short, handwritten note from me. Chase, you don't have to worry about naming this baby anymore. After the courier left, I stood by the door for a long time. The rain dripped steadily against the iron grates of the stairwell window. Drip. Drip. It sounded exactly like the sterile, icy beat of the IV drip in the hospital room. My phone vibrated in my hand. It was my sister, Gwen. "Georgia, are you packed?" "Yes." "I'm on my way. Don't touch anything heavy, do you hear me?" "I won't." Her voice went tight over the line. "Chase called me." I paused, my fingers tightening around the phone. "What did he say?" "He told me to tell you to go home when you're done throwing your tantrum, and to stop playing games with your health." Gwen let out a sharp, disbelieving scoff. "He actually asked me if you were going through early menopause. If that was why your emotions are so 'unstable' lately." I closed my eyes. Menopause. That was a word Chase would have never used to describe me before. When I was twenty-nine and he was twenty-three, he was just a fresh graduate standing under my apartment building with a massive bouquet of white roses. My mother had warned him back then: "You're so much younger than her. You'll get tired of her when she starts showing her age." His ears had flared bright red with earnest desperation. "Mrs. Welles, I won't. When she's thirty, I'll be twenty-four. When she's forty, I'll be thirty-four. I'll always be chasing her. I'll spend my whole life trying to cherish her." He was so sincere back then. So sincere I believed him for eight years. "Georgia?" Gwen called out, pulling me back to the present. "I'm here." "Don't let him get to you." "I'm fine." My eyes drifted to the tiny pair of baby booties sitting by the entryway. Chase had bought them. Two months ago, when the test finally turned positive, he had spun me around the living room three times. "Georgia, we finally did it," he’d whispered, burying his face in my neck. "I'm going to buy the best crib money can buy. If it's a girl, we'll name her Maisie. If it's a boy, Henry." I had laughed, telling him it was too soon to decide. "It's not," he'd insisted. "I've waited three years for this. Every night I dream of a little voice calling me Daddy." Now, the little booties were still here. But the baby was gone. I picked them up and packed them at the very bottom of the cardboard box. The buzzer rang. Gwen burst through the door, her hair soaked from the rain. Seeing how pale I was, she immediately softened her voice. "Georgia, does it still hurt?" "Not anymore." "Liar." She knelt down to help me tape up the boxes. "The doctor said you need bed rest. Why are you moving heavy boxes?" "Because this isn't my home anymore." Gwen grit her teeth. "He's going to regret this." I offered a faint, tired smile. "What good is regret?" She didn't answer, pulling the packing tape so hard it shrieked through the quiet room. Just as we hauled the last box to the door, the elevator chimed. The doors slid open, and Chase stepped out. He was wearing his tailored black suit, his tie slightly loosened. Standing right behind him was Piper. She was holding a clear umbrella, wearing the designer wool coat Chase had flown all the way to Milan to bid on for me at a private auction last winter. He had skipped a major client dinner for it, enduring weeks of teasing from his friends about how he'd lose his shirt just to keep his wife smiling. I had kept that coat in the center of our master closet, thinking it was sacred. Piper spoke first. "Georgia, please don't be mad. It was pouring, and Mr. Jenson was worried I'd catch a cold. He just grabbed whatever was in the car." Gwen snapped instantly. "Grabbed whatever was in the car? Chase, do you even remember what that coat represents?" Piper shrank behind Chase's shoulder. "Oh... is this the coat from that auction last year? The one where you lost that massive account just to get it for Georgia?" Her eyes well up with performative tears. "I'm so sorry, Chase. I just... I liked the style. I didn't know." Chase frowned. "Gwen, it's just a coat. Don't scare Piper. She's two years younger than you—why are you picking a fight with a kid?" Gwen let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Oh, so being young means she gets a free pass? Is that why you think you can treat my sister like trash?" Chase's face darkened. "This is between Georgia and me. It's none of your business." I braced myself against the doorframe, slowly standing tall. "Why are you here, Chase?" His eyes dropped to the boxes. "Are you actually leaving?" "Yes." He took a step forward, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Georgia, I don't have time for this drama. The IPO is tomorrow morning, and I have a board meeting tonight. Yes, I couldn't make it to the hospital immediately, but you're fine now, aren't you? You're not a teenager anymore. Stop being so dramatic. I am incredibly busy." "Busy?" I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "Busy celebrating Piper's birthday? Busy cleaning up after your little assistant?" His jaw tightened. That was the look he used to give his friends when they made jokes about my age. Now, he was directing it at me. I didn't argue. I just smiled, a cold, empty feeling spreading through my chest. "Fine? You think I'm fine? Our ba—" Before I could finish, Piper began frantically peeling off the coat, sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Georgia! I shouldn't have been so thoughtless. I didn't mean to come between you and Chase... Here, take it back." She shoved the heavy wool coat into Gwen's arms, shivering in her thin blouse, her shoulders hunched up to make herself look as fragile as possible. She looked up at Chase with wide, watery eyes. "Chase, I'm freezing. Can you please take me home?" Chase scowled, immediately slipping off his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders. Then he looked at me, exhaling a long, weary sigh. "Georgia, if you're determined to throw a fit, go stay at Gwen's for a couple of days. I'll take Piper home first. Once the IPO is behind me, we'll talk." I watched his back as he walked away, guiding her toward the elevator. The last shred of hope I didn't know I was holding onto finally snapped. "Chase," I whispered to the empty hallway. "There's nothing left for us to talk about." Gwen brought me to her two-bedroom apartment. The space was small but cozy, the balcony piled with her canvases and old art history books. She insisted I take the master bedroom. "Georgia, you sleep here. I'll take the couch." "No, Gwen. I'll sleep on the couch." "You just had surgery," she said, her voice cracking. "If you sleep on the couch, I'll go protest in front of Chase's office building with a banner. I swear to God I will." Looking at her fierce, protective expression, I couldn't help but smile faintly. Gwen set a mug of hot water by my hand. "You're still laughing." "I'm just remembering how you were in high school." "I was more mature in high school than Chase is right now." A heavy silence fell over the room. Gwen and Chase had been college classmates. That was how Chase had met me. He used to pump Gwen for information: what tea I liked, what flowers I hated, when my birthday was, and the fact that my stomach was sensitive and couldn't handle spicy food. "I really regret helping him pursue you," Gwen whispered, tears finally filling her eyes. "Georgia, do you know what his classmates were saying in the alumni group chat today? Someone posted a photo of Piper at the pre-IPO dinner, saying she's so young and gorgeous, that they look like a couple from a movie poster." I sat back on the sofa. "What did Chase say?" Gwen hesitated. "He said, 'Well, you know how it is. Youth brings its own energy.' And then he said you didn't like crowded events anyway, which is why he left you at home." Suddenly, my phone rang. It was a landline from Chase's office. I picked it up. "Georgia," Piper's voice giggled over the line. "Guess what I just found?" I heard the rustle of paper. "Let's see," she read aloud, mockingly. "'Chase, you don't have to worry about naming this baby anymore.' Wow. You're cold, aren't you? The baby is gone, and you're still trying to use it to guilt-trip him?" My grip on the phone tightened. "Piper. Give that package to him." "What package?" she asked innocently. "Oh, the one I signed for? I threw it in the trash. Trash belongs in the bin, after all." Gwen heard her voice and lunged to grab the phone, but I held her back. "Piper," I said, my voice steady. "Are you scared?" A beat of silence. "Scared of what?" "Scared of Chase seeing the pathology report. Scared of him realizing I was actually in the operating room while you were sending him tearful selfies to get his attention. Scared he'll realize a dead child outweighs a petty tantrum." Her voice went cold. "Georgia, don't act so high and mighty just because you managed to get pregnant. Do you think Chase actually wanted that baby? He only wanted it because he knew you were pushing forty and it was your last shot. He told me himself that having a baby at thirty-six is dangerous, and that you'd look like an old grandmother dropping the kid off at school anyway." A sharp, physical pang hit my chest. Not because of Piper's words, but because the man who used to scream at anyone who mentioned my age was now the one using it as a punchline. He had joked about it with his friends at dinner parties. "My wife has a strict eleven p.m. bedtime now. She can't keep up with you young girls. I have to cut her some slack—she is six years older than me, after all." They had laughed. He had laughed. And I had laughed too, pretending I couldn't hear the humiliation baked into every syllable. "Georgia," Piper added, "honestly, you should just stay quiet and keep your title as Mrs. Jenson. Don't make a scene. A divorced woman your age isn't exactly a hot commodity on the market." I didn't say a word. Gwen was practically vibrating with rage. "Georgia, don't hold it in. Scream at him, cry, do something! You're terrifying me." I gently touched my abdomen. It was flat again. Empty. "Gwen," I said softly. "I can't cry. I used to think that as long as he loved me, I could bear anything. But now I realize it's not that he stopped loving me. He just took his patience—the very best part of himself—and gave it to someone younger." Gwen's eyes brimmed with tears. "He wasn't like this. Do you remember our graduation dinner? Someone made a joke about you being a 'hot older woman' and Chase literally smashed his glass on the floor." I remembered. That night, he had gotten so drunk, wrapping his arms around my waist and refusing to let go. Georgia, don't listen to them. You're not my 'older woman.' You're just the person I love. I love you at twenty-nine, and I'll love you at ninety. Every year you get older is just another year I get to love you. My heart had melted completely. But now, he told Piper: Georgia's too old for late nights. He told his board: She's the wife, but you're the face of the company. There's no conflict. No conflict. I was tucked away in a drawer like a coat out of season, while Piper wore my actual coat and stood in his spotlight. Gwen poured the soup she had made into the sink. "If he comes here tomorrow, I'm not letting him in." "Okay." My phone buzzed. It was Chase. I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow for your follow-up appointment. Don't be stubborn. At your age, your body heals slower. You need to listen to the doctors. I stared at the phrase at your age. I flipped the phone face down. Gwen snatched it up and blocked his number. "He doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you." I didn't stop her. I slept fitfully that night. In my dreams, Chase was kneeling before me, his hand resting on my stomach. Hey, little one. Daddy's been waiting for you. When I woke up, the sky was still grey, and my pillow was soaked. I can still cry, it seems. I just do it silently now. At nine the next morning, the buzzer rang. Gwen blocked the doorway. "Can't you take a hint?" Chase was standing in the hall, holding a bouquet. Not white roses. Pink carnations. I remembered Piper posting a photo of them once, saying they were her favorite. Gwen spotted them and laughed coldly. "Brought flowers for the wrong girl, Chase?" He looked down at the bouquet, his brow furrowing. "My assistant bought them." "Your assistant knows what Piper likes, but has no idea what my sister likes?" Chase didn't answer. He looked past her into the apartment. "Georgia, I want to see you." I sat at the dining table, unmoving. "Let him in, Gwen." Gwen stepped aside, glaring. Chase walked in, his eyes immediately searching my face. A flash of guilt passed over his features. "You've lost weight." "Say what you came to say," I replied. He set the flowers on the table. "I thought about what you said all night. Georgia, I've been so overwhelmed with the IPO. I didn't mean to neglect you. And I didn't skip the hospital on purpose. Piper had a sudden panic attack at the press conference, and I thought... I thought you were just trying to pick a fight to get my attention." Gwen slammed her hand on the table. "She called you six times! The nurses called you! You didn't answer a single one!" "My phone was with my assistant," Chase said, his voice rising slightly. "Then how did Piper get through to you?" His expression hardens. "Gwen, stop turning everything into a conspiracy about her. She's a kid. She doesn't know any better." I let out a soft laugh. "She doesn't know any better? Is that why she wears my clothes? Takes my jewelry? Is that why she sent you crying selfies the exact hour of my ultrasound, claiming her blood sugar crashed?" Chase went quiet. I opened the drawer, pulled out a stack of photos, and tossed them onto the table. In one, Piper was wearing the diamond necklace Chase gave me for our fifth anniversary, sitting in the passenger seat of his car. In another, she was using our spare keycard to enter our apartment. Chase stared at the photos, his face pale. "You hired someone to follow me?" "My neighbor sent them to me," I said calmly. "She wanted to know if we'd hired a new maid." "Even a maid knows not to wear the mistress's jewelry," Gwen spat. Chase's voice dropped. "I gave her the keycard because she had to drop off some urgent files. I didn't know about the necklace." "And the coat?" "She spilled coffee on her dress right before a gala. I told her to grab something from the closet." "Why didn't you ask me?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper. He frowned. "You never used to care about things like this." "Because you never used to give me a reason to care, Chase. Your devotion used to belong entirely to me. Now, you've handed it to someone else." His lips parted, but no sound came out. "Georgia... Piper is just a kid starting out. I didn't think you'd lower yourself to compete with an assistant." I stood up. "You keep calling her a kid. Because she's young, her mistakes are just innocent slips. Because I'm older, I'm expected to be the bigger person and swallow my humiliation. Is that the logic here?" He looked stumped. After a long pause, he sighed. "That's not what I mean. I just... I expected you to be more mature. You have ten years of life experience on her. You should be above this." Gwen lunged forward, but I held her back. "Gwen, don't." Chase looked at me. "Georgia, I didn't come here to fight. We've been together for eight years. Let's not throw everything away over a misunderstanding. I'm exhausted too." "A misunderstanding?" I repeated. "Chase, our baby is dead. Is that a misunderstanding?" He froze. "What?" The color drained from his face. "Don't say things like that just to hurt me." "It's not a joke. I mailed you the divorce papers and the pathology report yesterday." He shook his head, his chest heaving. "No. No, Georgia, don't play with me. We've wanted this child for years." I walked to the door and opened it. "The package went out last night. Sign the papers. I don't want a dime of your money." "Georgia..." Before he could finish, his phone rang. It was his chief of staff. He answered, his expression gradually shifting from confusion to horror. "What do you mean, Piper took it? Why would she sign for my personal mail?" The caller's voice was faint, but in the quiet room, the words slipped through: “Ms. Piper said it was just junk mail from a disgruntled neighbor, and she threw it out so it wouldn't ruin your focus before the IPO...” Chase looked at me through the doorway, his eyes wild with sudden panic. "Georgia, I will handle this. I swear to you. Just... wait for me."
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