Chapter 2: Ghosts at the Reunion

Six years after our breakup, I ran into Derek again at the lowest point of my life.

That day was a class reunion in Toledo. No one expected Derek to show up.

The hotel lobby buzzed with the familiar hum of old friends, the sticky-sweet scent of cheap wine, and laughter that always seemed just a little too loud. I’d barely scraped together enough gas money to make it out there—more out of hope than desire.

Someone joked, "Big shot Derek never keeps in touch. Why’d you suddenly show up this year?"

"What’s up, Derek? You finally show because you heard Natalie might be here?"

There was a ripple of laughter, and for a moment, I wanted to melt into the cracked vinyl of my seat. I sat in the corner, my back suddenly stiffening. I looked up to see Derek, a cigarette dangling from his lips, staring at me with cold indifference.

He looked older—sharper jawline, designer watch glinting on his wrist, posture stiff like someone used to having the room’s attention. His eyes, though, still carried that same storm I remembered.

Everyone knew how much Derek once loved me.

Our romance had been the gossip of senior year. He was the son of a wealthy family, but he fell for me at first sight.

That year, for me, he cut ties with his family, gave up the easy life, and struggled to be with me.

We lived in a tiny apartment, shared microwaved mac and cheese, drank coffee from the same chipped mug. Life was hard, but we were happy.

I still remember those early mornings—him in boxers, humming off-key in the kitchen, me stealing his hoodie just to feel close. Our world was small, but it was ours.

Every passionate night, our fingers intertwined, we swore to be together forever.

Then I got pregnant.

His mother gave me $450,000 and asked me to abort our child and leave him.

I’ll never forget her voice—so polite, so businesslike. The envelope pressed into my hand at a Starbucks across from the university, her rings flashing as she gave me an ultimatum disguised as kindness.

That day, Derek knelt outside the operating room, pounding on the door over and over, crying and begging me: "Nat, Nat... I’ll work hard, I’ll make money, I’ll support our family. I’ll earn as many $450,000s as you want, all for you to spend, okay?"

"I’m begging you, don’t leave me, don’t abandon our child..."

His voice still haunts me. I remember the way his fists thudded against the painted metal, the way the nurses frowned, and how I couldn’t bring myself to scream.

I lay on the operating table, biting my lip so hard I wouldn’t cry out loud.

Separated by that thin door, I listened to Derek say he would hate me for the rest of his life.

I stared up at the harsh fluorescent lights, counting each beep of the heart monitor, telling myself this was the only way. My heart shattered with every word he said.