Loving You Was My Romance

Because of Blakes promise, Ill take care of you, I, Monica, once a rising star in Hollywood, was forced to become a full-time housewife.

In the third year of our marriage, on the day I was alone at the fertility clinic for my IVF procedure, he was at the theater watching another womans live dance performance.

When we divorced, he was certain I would regret it.

However, at the awards ceremony where I won Best Actress, he knelt before me with a bouquet of roses, saying he wanted to win me back.

The man beside me asked, "Mr. Blake, are you trying to pursue my girlfriend? I wont allow that."

Today was the day of the embryo transfer.

I came to the clinic alone.

The doctor couldnt help but ask, "Such an important moment, why isnt your husband here with you?"

I smiled bitterly. "Hes busy with work."

The doctor sighed. "Having a child is a matter for two people. How can he let his wife face this alone?"

How I wished Blake could be here with me.

But he said his schedule was packed lately.

Hed already signed contracts, and breaking them would mean a huge penalty.

After the procedure, a needle-like pain prickled in my lower abdomen.

Sitting on the chair outside the exam room, I texted Blake.

Honey, the transfer is done. Were going to have a baby. Im so excited!

I closed the chat window and opened Instagram. I typed in "Blake."

On his fan page, there was a recent post from a fan.

At the theater watching the ballet, and guess who I ran into in the audience?

Blake! Got a photo, so happy! Today is a successful fangirl day!

Attached were two pictures: one of the fan with Blake, and another of the ballet ticket.

I was confused.

He couldnt spare two hours to be with me at the clinic, but he had time to watch the performance?

Searching the ballet name on the ticket, I found that the principal dancer was Isabella Chase.

She was a dancer who won a championship on a dance competition show last year.

Id seen her once during a rehearsal when Blake performed at a gala, and Isabella was one of the backup dancers.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed.

Then, I found Isabellas Instagram account.

Her latest post was from ten minutes ago.

He said the me who shines on stage mesmerizes him!

The photo was taken from the audiences perspective.

Scrolling down He said this dish is called Two Hearts Holding Hands.

My sinking heart plummeted completely.

This dish was my own creation for our first wedding anniversary. I even came up with the name myself.

Blake asked me to teach him how to make it. He said from then on, hed be the one to make this dish, only for me.

Now, hed made it for another woman.

I kept scrolling. Her posts about him started about a year and a half ago.

As I browsed hundreds of snippets of their sweet daily life, my fingers trembling slightly on the phone screen, my vision grew blurry.

I looked up, gazing blankly around.

The person on my left fanned himself with a pamphlet covered in small ads.

The person on my right held a palm-sized portable fan.

Maybe the draft from them was too strong. I got goosebumps.

That evening, Blake surprisingly came home for dinner.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?"

I didnt know how I got home from the clinic.

Id been curled on the sofa ever since.

My mind replayed the last five years with Blakehow we met, fell in love, got married.

Blake leaned over, his hand slipping under my shirt, gently rubbing my abdomen.

His warm breath brushed my neck, his low voice murmured in my ear, "Does it still hurt?"

Ten days of hormone shots had left a cluster of tiny needle marks around my navel.

I didnt have to go through this.

But Blake had a low sperm count. Natural conception was very unlikely.

I pushed his hand away and sat up, staring into his eyes.

He was stunned for a second, then let out a light laugh.

"Monica, whats wrong? Who upset you? You look so serious."

"Was the ballet good?"

"Huh?" His brow furrowed, clearly not expecting that question.

"Blake, if you were genuinely swamped with work, I could understand you not coming to the clinic. But the truth?"

"I was at the clinic enduring the embryo transfer, and you were enjoying a show? If I hadnt seen that fans post, Id still be in the dark!"

"Monica, its a misunderstanding. My assistant and I had business near the theater. While waiting for the driver, I saw the marquee and went in out of curiosity. We were out in less than ten minutes."

He looked utterly sincere.

If I hadnt seen Isabellas posts, I probably would have believed his lies.

I might have even felt guilty for doubting him.

But now I still didnt have the courage to confront him, to say I knew everything about him and Isabella.

Blake and I met at a friends party five years ago.

He was a rising pop singer and I was a popular actress.

After the party, he pursued me relentlessly.

Two years later, we were married.

At our wedding, he sang a song he wrote just for me.

After marriage, he continued to dote on me, was patient with me, made me feel secure.

But this past year, his workload increased, and the time he spent with me dwindled.

My gut told me something subtle had shifted between us.

I thought it might be my imagination, but now?

While Blake was showering, my phone buzzed with a calendar reminder I had set a few days ago:

Watch hubbys new variety show at 8:10 PM.

I was Blakes loyal fan, always tuning in for his new shows.

My mind was a mess, but I turned on the TV anyway.

During a game segment, Blake lost.

The host called for a penalty song.

Without hesitation, the host said, "I want to hear My Romance is Loving You."

Blake looked uncomfortable.

"That song doesnt really fit todays vibe. How about another one?"

The host seemed puzzled. "Today is Valentine 's Day! How doesnt it fit?"

That was the song he wrote for our first anniversary.

He was on a national tour back then.

"Today marks one year with Monica. I wrote a song just for her, called My Romance is Loving You."

The venue erupted.

Sitting in the front row, listening to him sing, I was moved to tears.

The host aimed the mic at the audience.

"Do you all want to hear it?"

"YES!"

In the end, Blake sang it.

I hadnt heard him sing that song in over a year.

In my memory, whenever anyone asked him to sing it before, he never refused.

After singing, hed happily share the story behind the song.

In those moments, I felt incredibly lucky.

Id heard him sing it a hundred times.

How could I not see that today, he wasn't invested. He didn't pour any emotion into the song.

Near the shows end, the host said, "Blake is here today with a new song. Let's welcome him to introduce it."

"The new song I wrote is called Dance Upon My Heart. Hope you all like it."

Watching him sing with such deep feeling, my heart ached with a twisting pain.

That year, that day, he held me and said, "Blake will only ever write songs for one woman: Monica."

Now, hed done it for another woman.

And he actively avoided my song.

How ironic.

The bathroom door opened. Blake stepped out, a towel around his waist.

His handsome face, toned chest, tan skin.

Just like the man I fell for.

Noticing my gaze, he teased, "Mesmerized by the view?"

I quickly looked away, pointing at the TV.

"You didnt tell me you had a new song out."

He froze.

I continued, smiling, "Dance Upon My Heart. Nice title."

I was smiling, but my heart was breaking.

He looked as if a lightbulb went off.

"Ive been so busy lately, I forgot to tell you! Its just something I improvised."

I kept a faint smile, "Oh? What inspired such a strong creative urge in our big star?"

He rubbed his nose. "Just saw a dance show, felt inspired."

A dance show? Felt inspired?

Lying came so easily to him now.

Watching his back as he headed to the bedroom, he suddenly felt like a stranger.

He didnt match the boy from my memory whod stutter and blush when he lied.

At breakfast the next day, he said between bites, "Theres a commercial event. I have to go out of town for three days."

"So suddenly?"

"Yeah. My agent just texted me after I woke up."

"Listen to the doctor. Rest, dont move around too much. Tell Mrs. Parker if you want anything to eat."

I touched my stomach. Was our child in there now?

Before yesterday, I longed for a baby, our baby. All the shots, the medicineI endured it willingly.

But now, I hesitated.