I Planned to Announce My Pregnancy, Boyfriend and Bestie Announced Their Wedding Chapter 08

I Planned to Announce My Pregnancy, Boyfriend and Bestie Announced Their Wedding Chapter 08

## [Elena’s POV]

After moving abroad, I struggled to adjust at first.

Fortunately, my coworkers were kind, and there wasn’t much office politics.

As the days passed, work and my new life kept me too busy to think about anything else.

Whenever I felt overwhelmed, I’d open my message thread with Mom and type to her as though she were still there.

At first, I still woke from nightmares.

In them, Mom was covered in blood, and for a while, I was even diagnosed with mild depression.

Then one day, I received a call from back home saying a package had arrived, but no one was at the house.

I gave the courier my new address and had the package forwarded overseas.

It was a small, exquisitely crafted box.

Inside was a photo of Mom holding me.

I had been five years old, the same year Dad died.

On the back, she’d written:

[Elena, Mom hopes you’ll always be as happy as you were that day and stay that happy forever.]

Mom had scheduled the delivery the week before.

And today was my birthday.

I pressed the photo to my chest as though I could still feel the last trace of Mom’s warmth.

That night, the nightmares stopped.

It had only been two months, but Nathan and Vivian already felt like a past life.

I never expected to run into Nathan here.

At least, I never expected to see him there. I didn’t think he would leave Vivian and come after me.

At the wedding, her reputation had been his first concern.

But one day, after work, I spotted him under a tree across the street.

He looked gaunt and dazed, almost hollow.

When he saw me, his eyes lit up.

“Elena!”

He ran over and pulled me into a hug.

“I finally… found you.”

His voice was hoarse, like that of a man dying of thirst in the desert.

I frowned, shoved him away, and took a step back to put distance between us.

“Say what you came to say. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Nathan froze, like my coldness was a surprise.

I almost laughed.

“Nathan, what are you pretending now? How can you hurt me the way you did and then show up as though nothing happened?”

His lips trembled. His shoulders slumped.

It was as though two decades, not two months, had passed for him.

I turned to leave.

“Elena—”

His voice cracked.

“Were you diagnosed with lupus? Do you need a kidney transplant?”

I stopped and turned back, irritated.

“Nathan, I moved to another country to get away from you. Do you hate me so much that you want me dead?”

He reeled as if struck and suddenly coughed up blood.

I reached out to catch him, then pulled my hand back.

Not my problem.

The hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable to look at.

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood straighter.

“Elena, please. Just talk to me.”

I said nothing.

“Please…”

I decided we needed closure, so I took him to The Daily Grind, the café I visited most often.

We sat across from each other, and I spoke first.

“Talk. I have things to do.”

Nathan gazed at me with aching tenderness.

“Elena… you’re okay. That’s all that matters.”