2026-03-04
Love's Cruelest Joke
That night, in the corner of the bar, forced to drink and drowning in despair, he showed up. "Will you come with me?" Ernest's voice was low, like salvation but also temptation. "Yes." I grabbed him like he was my last straw. Five years later, I bared my heart to him—only to be met with a complete, shameless betrayal. "Will you marry me?" Holding our child, I asked him one last time. "Molly, stop it." He said irritably, eyes darting away, "I'll take good care of you and our child." The ridiculous thing was, his "taking care" meant walking out of my delivery room holding our child to marry another woman—my sister, Willa. "Ernest," on his wedding day, I sent...