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Back at the apartment they'd arranged for me, I fell face-first onto the bed and slept like I'd been struck down.

My phone screaming in my ear ripped me out of it.

I answered, half-dead.

"Nina! Where the hell are you?"

Dante.

I snapped fully awake. One glance at the clock—I'd been asleep less than an hour. Exhaustion and rage sharpened my tongue.

"I spelled it out on the calendar. We're done."

He laughed, savage. "Done? I didn't agree to that. You bailed on me on our wedding day with a post-it note?"

His voice cracked, furious, bitter, something raw underneath it.

I just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Isobel is carrying your child. I'm not marrying the father of another woman's baby."

"And more importantly—I finally understand. You never loved me."

Long silence. Almost long enough for me to drift back to sleep. Then, low:

"So that's it. You're leaving me over that baby."

I didn't answer.

His voice dropped to a command. "Tell me where you are. I'm coming to see you."

"Dante. A breakup doesn't need both sides to agree. You can disagree all you want. My decision's made. Be classy. Be a decent ex."

I ended the call before he could respond and blocked his number. Dozens of texts piled in after—more, in one morning, than he'd sent me the entire last month. I didn't read any of them. I blocked those too, rolled back into the covers, and let sleep take me.

This time, nothing could interrupt me.