When we came out of the consultation room, we ran into Timothy. He was holding a boy. Nathaniel Watcher. Yes, that was Willow’s son. The boy he saved while he abandoned his own daughter.
Willow was right beside him. Timothy was talking to her gently. Oh, I would’ve envied the couple if Timothy weren’t my husband and the father of my child.
Willow saw us first, and she looked smug, yet she pretended to be surprised to see us. “Yvonne, long time no see. I’ve missed you.”
Man, I was impressed with her acting. She came right to me just to gloat when she came back three months ago. She told me how much Timothy still loved her over the years and told me to get a divorce if I was smart.
And now she acted like we were meeting for the first time. Ah, well, why was I surprised? She was the same back in college. I used to think she was my best friend and told her everything.
I fell in love with Timothy at first sight and agonized over how I should confess. She told me to write a confession letter and volunteered to take it to Timothy. I took the advice and gave her the letter, but there was no response.
Before I could even wallow in my sadness, he’d become Willow’s boyfriend, but she’d never seen him that much. She only knew him because I told her everything I knew about him. I was still reeling from the shock when my friends told me that they only started dating thanks to that confession letter.
I demanded an explanation, but she looked at me innocently. “Yeah, we only started talking because of the letter, but he fell in love with my looks.”
I had no comeback for that. I lost my best friend and the person I loved overnight, so I went abroad to recover. Eventually, I graduated and came back home, but I got news about Timothy’s business.
It ran into some sort of crisis, so Willow bailed on him and married someone else overseas. That hit him hard. I couldn’t see him wallow in his misery, so I worked as his assistant. The company eventually got back on track.
We held a celebratory feast, and after a drunken mistake, I got pregnant. Timothy went MIA for a week. When he came back, he tossed a ring to me. “Abortion’s going to hurt you. We should get hitched.”
And so, we did. No wedding photos, no grand wedding. Only a marriage certificate to prove that we were married. For five years, Timothy said nothing about Willow. I thought he’d forgotten all about her.
But he hadn’t. He only said nothing because it hurt his soul every time he brought it up. But she came back. Now he had his wish. The third wheel should retire now. Her final act had drawn to a close. That third wheel was me.
