He Dumped Me Pregnant for a Fake Widow

I wiped my camera lens for the third time, even though I knew the South African dust would never really come off. Three days since the mine collapse, and I'd taken hundreds of photos. Each one broke my heart. Half the trapped miners were still down there, but we international relief workers had to evacuate.

The sound of helicopter rotors cut through the air outside our tent. My heart skipped a beat. Finally going home.

"Sera, ready to go?" Donovan pushed through the tent flap, holding a stack of papers. My husband and the project manager for our British NGO relief team. His expression looked weird – not the "thank God we're leaving this hellhole" relief I'd expected.

"Almost." I zipped my camera into its shock-proof case. "Did the embassy confirm our seats?"

"About that. I need to tell you something." He sat across from me on a folding chair, avoiding my eyes. "The helicopter has limited seating. Only two spots for British nationals."

I stopped packing. "What do you mean?"

"You, me, and Ambassador Thompson. Three people." He paused, looking uncomfortable. "The original plan was for Thompson and me to go first, then you'd wait for the next flight. But now the situation has changed."

My heart sank. "Changed how?"

"Thompson decided to stay. He wants to coordinate the ongoing rescue efforts himself."

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. "So it's just you and me then? Perfect, I was worried I'd have to—"

"No." He cut me off. "Ivory has to come with us."

It took me a second to process that. Ivory Chambers – the blonde psychologist who claimed to be carrying her dead South African miner husband's baby. She'd been doing trauma counseling for the rescue workers all week, acting very professional.

Wait.

"Two seats. You mean..." I stared at him, not daring to believe what I was thinking.

"Ivory's six months pregnant. Her husband died in the mine collapse, and she's psychologically unstable. The doctors say she needs professional treatment back in London, or it could endanger the baby."

I felt like the ground had disappeared beneath me. "You're saying you're going with her and leaving me here?"

He finally looked at me, but his eyes were cold as a stranger's. "It's the most logical arrangement. She needs to get back more than you do."

This man was actually abandoning his pregnant wife to run away with another woman.

I remembered when he was chasing me a year ago. Fresh out of London School of Economics, young and ambitious, talking about using his expertise to help the third world. He'd write me long emails about his humanitarian ideals, saying someone with my social consciousness was exactly the life partner he wanted.

"You have vision, passion, and the courage to change the world," he'd said then. "Together, we could do so much meaningful work."

I thought I'd found true love. A man who cared about the disadvantaged, willing to fight for justice. I even convinced my father to give Donovan his current NGO position.

Now that same man sat across from me, telling me matter-of-factly that I mattered less than some woman I barely knew.

"She needs it more than me?" My voice was shaking. "Donovan, I'm pregnant too."

He blinked, but quickly returned to that businesslike expression. "I know."

"You know?" I couldn't believe my ears. "Then why—"

"You're only three months along. Not as far as she is. Plus you're in good health, you can adapt to the conditions here." He cut me off. "You'll manage. Ivory needs more help than you do."

The whole world felt like it was spinning. He knew I was pregnant, but he was still choosing to leave me behind? In this place that could explode into armed conflict any moment?

"Adapt to conditions?" My voice started trembling. "There was gunfire two nights ago! You want to leave a pregnant woman in a war zone?"

"There are UN peacekeepers for protection." He stood up. "Besides, Atlas will stay to continue the rescue work. He's a professional – he'll look after you."

Atlas Ironwood. That South African mine rescue expert who barely spoke to us international volunteers. A stone-faced man who kept to himself.

"Are you insane?" I stood up too. "I'm your wife!"

"Exactly because you're my wife, I know you can handle this." His tone stayed calm. "You're not just any British woman, Sera. You're an Ashford. You have noble blood. You're stronger than anyone."

Noble blood. I almost laughed out loud. A year ago when he was pursuing me, he never mentioned my family background. Now suddenly it was a reason I should endure everything.

Footsteps approached outside, then Ivory walked in. Her blonde hair somehow still looked fluffy in these harsh conditions, and her pale blue eyes were teary. Picture-perfect innocent victim expression – clearly professionally trained.

"I'm so sorry, Sera." Her voice was soft and fragile. "I really don't want to take your spot, but for the baby..." She gently rubbed her obviously swollen belly.

I wanted to puke.

Not from morning sickness. From disgust. That pitiful act, combined with Donovan's "for the baby" speech – it was perfectly rehearsed.

"Of course, for the baby." I said through gritted teeth. "After all, it's a fallen hero's child. More important than what's in my belly."

Ivory's eyes flickered for a second, but she quickly returned to that wounded look. "I didn't mean it that way..."

"Enough." Donovan waved dismissively. "Sera, don't be like this. This is the best decision after weighing all factors."

Weighing all factors. I'd remember those words.

The helicopter noise was getting closer. Donovan picked up Ivory's luggage. "We should go."

I watched them head for the tent flap, my mind completely blank. Was this man really going to abandon me like this? In this dangerous place, for a stranger?

"Donovan." I called out.

He turned around, and I swear I saw annoyance on his face.

"When I write my memoir in ten years, I'll make sure the whole world knows exactly what kind of man you are."

His expression changed. "Sera, don't be emotional. When you calm down, you'll understand this was the rational choice."

Then they left. Actually left.

I stood in the tent, listening to the helicopter getting louder and louder. Through the tent gap, I could see Donovan helping Ivory onto the aircraft. So careful, like he was afraid she might fall.

A year ago, he used to help me into cars the same way. I thought that was love.

The helicopter slowly lifted off. I watched it become a black dot in the sky. Suddenly, a massive explosion erupted behind me.