Part 3The Ex Who Went Viral

For three days, I felt like I was sitting on shattered glass.

At dinner, distracted and sick to my stomach, I dropped and broke my spoon.

When I leaned down to pick up the pieces, the world went black, and I collapsed.

When I woke up, the doctor told me I was pregnant.

In a daze, completely overwhelmed, I immediately called Dean.

Half an hour later, he burst through the hospital room door, breathless.

Mrs. Reed followed him, happily taking my mother’s hand and telling her not to worry, that I was now part of their family.

From that day on, Dean was a shadow. He was meticulous in caring for me, catering to my every mood swing during those difficult first weeks.

But slowly, his course load became "too demanding." The group projects piled up. He started coming home later and later.

Until the day of my first solo prenatal check-up, when Dean never showed up at all.

I used every trick I knew to get Tatum’s address.

The door wasn't locked. As I pushed it open, the sound hit me first: the low, unmistakable sound of entangled breaths coming from the back room.

The tension that had been building inside me for weeks, combined with the crushing sickness of early pregnancy, finally snapped.

I grabbed the fruit knife from the kitchen table and ran into the bedroom like a lunatic.

I was screaming, swinging the knife wildly, unleashing all the resentment and pain that had been building inside me.

There was a muffled cry of pain.

Dean had thrown himself in front of Tatum, and my desperate swipe had sliced a long, ugly wound across his forearm.

Blood welled up instantly and streamed down his arm. But Dean didn't look at his wound; his eyes were fixed on me.

He finally roared at me.

“Sierra! Have you lost your mind?!”

In twenty-three years, that was the first time Dean had ever stood his ground with such force.

The first time he had ever displayed such overwhelming certainty and protectiveness.

And it was all for the woman he loved.

It was a version of him I had never seen before. Every movement, every fierce look in his eyes—it was all for Tatum.

We were done. Completely and irrevocably.

He moved back to the university dorms. I turned around and terminated the pregnancy.

When Mrs. Reed found out, she ordered Dean to come home and beg for my forgiveness.

Dean’s eyes were fixed on my stomach, and he didn’t say a word.

But I wasn't the kind of girl to just walk away in silent defeat.

I spread the pictures of Dean’s affair all over the university. I compiled a damning presentation and uploaded it online. I stood outside the student dorms with a megaphone and broadcast their secret relationship to everyone.

I wasn’t a fragile, heartbroken little girl who would simply vanish after being wronged.

I intended to make Dean understand the cost of crossing me.

If I wasn’t going to be okay, neither were they.

But within days, my own private photos—intimate shots Dean and I had taken—were leaked.

They spread with a force that completely overshadowed the news of Dean’s infidelity.

The scandal raged for two weeks, until the university board cited me for "disrupting the campus environment" and suspended me.

Dean, the star student, faced no disciplinary action whatsoever.

My mother, heartbroken, officially withdrew me from school.

She said we would move to a new city and start over.

On the day we moved, Mr. and Mrs. Reed came to the house, burdened with shame and apologies.

Dean stood outside the door, where my father had forbidden him to cross the threshold.

Just before getting into the car, I walked over to him.

I had to know. I desperately needed to know why.

Why had we ended up like this? Why the betrayal? Why the cruelty?

Dean was silent for a long time, and then he said words I would never, ever forget.