Ashes of Regret: The Pregnant Bride He Left to Burn

I float above the steel table in the morgue.

Ryker peels back the white sheet and stares at my charred, unrecognizable corpse.

The medical examiner points to my blackened hands clamped over my stomach.

She was carrying an eight-week-old fetus.

Ryker's legs give out.

He slams his knees into the cold tile and rips an agonized roar from his throat.

I sit on my sun-drenched porch and bite into a piece of fresh crab.

I simply watch him and smile.

Chapter 1

Smoke and ash gave way to a suffocating obsession. Ever since my firefighter boyfriend, Ryker, pulled my sister, Gemma, from that inferno, she had been treating him like her personal oxygen tank. Dr. Simons words still echoed in my ears. "Shes developed severe attachment issues. She can't go twenty-four hours without him."

Every date night became a table for three. We even moved her into our shared apartment.

Twenty-four hours before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, Gemma spiraled. She swallowed an entire bottle of Ambien.

The ICU machines beepeda frantic, mocking rhythm. Ryker hurled the empty pill bottle against the hospital wall. Glass shattered across the linoleum. "She's a nightmare! How long is she going to hold us hostage?"

My parents, Bruce and Lorraine, broke down. We begged him to save her.

He did. And the pattern locked in.

Attempt number eight at a wedding. Another perfectly timed panic attack. Another collapse.

I gripped Ryker's forearm. My nails dug into his skin. "The courthouse. Please. Let's just sign the papers first."

He wrenched his arm away. The force sent me stumbling back.

"Are you out of your mind?" His jaw ticked, a massive red flag I always ignored. "Gemma is practically dying, and you're obsessed with a piece of paper? Selfish!"

A sharp sting exploded across my cheek.

Lorraine stood over me, chest heaving, tears streaming down her face. "You know she can't breathe without him! You're rushing this wedding just to kill your own sister!"

They didn't look back. They sprinted down the hallway, leaving me in the dust.

A heavy, metallic sigh echoed in my skull.

"Time is up, Maeve." Arlo's voice was flat, robotic. "You turn thirty tomorrow. Twenty-four hours left to marry the male lead, or you will be completely erased from existence."

I pulled out my phone. The screen glowed with the birthday countdown widget Ryker had installed for me months ago.

A broken laugh ripped from my throat. It tasted like blood and ash. My vision blurred. Hot, pathetic tears tracked down my stinging cheek.

The sterile smell of the hospital hit me like a physical blow.

Gemma was awake. She was drowning in Rykers oversized CFD training shirt, her head tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck.

The door clicked shut behind me. Her gaze locked onto the diamond on my left hand. Then, it dropped to Rykers large hand gripping her waist.

"Why are you and Ryker wearing matching rings?" Her voice was whisper-thin. "Did I ruin your special day again, Maeve?"

"No! Never!" Lorraine lunged at me. Her fingers dug into my knuckles. She forcefully twisted the wedding band off my finger. The metal scraped my skin raw. "This this is a special gift!" Lorraine stuttered, forcing a wide smile. "Your sister and Ryker bought it just for you. A matching set. One for you, one for him."

Gemma gasped, pressing both hands over her mouth. "Really? I love it so much!"

Ryker didnt even flinch. He took her delicate hand and slid my ring onto her finger. "Yeah," his voice was incredibly soft, a tone he rarely used on me anymore. "Knew you'd love the sparkle. All for you."

A sharp, throbbing ache pulsed in my stripped finger.

Bruce and Lorraine crowded around the bed, cooing and snapping photos of the happy couple on their phones.

I stood in the corner. A ghost in my own life.

My fingernails sliced crescent moons into my palms. I waited. I stood completely still until the monitors showed her heart rate steadying, until Ryker finally coaxed her to sleep.

I stepped closer. My trembling fingers caught the edge of his t-shirt. "Ryker" The word barely scraped past the lump in my throat. "She's out. Please. Let's just go to the courthouse. Right now."

His head snapped up. Total disgust twisted his features. His hand immediately covered Gemmas ear, shielding her from my existence. "Are you in that much of a rush?" he hissed, keeping his voice dangerously low. "It took me hours to get her to smile, and you want to leave her here?"

Acid burned the back of my throat. My lungs simply stopped working.

"Do you remember" I choked on the air. "Do you remember what I told you? That if I don't marry you before I turn thirty, I'll literally die?"

A glowing, blood-red hourglass materialized in my field of vision. Arlos countdown. Twenty-three hours left. The rhythmic tick-tock vibrated against my skull like a reapers scythe dragging across concrete. My knees threatened to buckle.

"I will die, Ryker. I'm not making it up. Just drive me to the courthouse. Ten minutes. That's all I'm asking."

Chapter 2

Ryker's jaw tightened, a deep crease forming between his brows. "Maeve, I am not doing this with you right now!" he snapped. "Simon said another ten minutes and Gemma would be brain dead. They just pumped her stomach. I am not leaving her side."

Lorraine dug her acrylics into my shoulder, her voice a venomous hiss. "What kind of sister are you? Your sister was literally fighting for her life, and you're whining about a wedding?"

The commotion stirred Gemma. Her pale fingers weakly curled into the fabric of Ryker's sleeve. "Where are you guys going? It's fine just leave me your jacket, Ryker. I'll be okay." She blinked up at me, huge tears spilling over her lashes. "Please don't be mad at me, Maeve. I don't want to be this needy I just need his scent to ground me. You guys go."

Ryker practically dove back onto the mattress, hauling her against his chest. "I'm not going anywhere. I've got you." He shot a pointed look over his shoulder at Lorraine.

Lorraine shoved me hard toward the hallway. "Go get her some Panera. She needs soup. Now."

I scrambled, catching Lorraine's wrist. "Mom, please! I'm not making this up! Just give me thirty minutes with him! There's a system! If I don't marry Ryker before I turn thirty, it will erase me! I will cease to exist!"

Lorraines face twisted with pure disgust. She swung her designer purse, slamming the heavy buckle into my ribs. "You sick, jealous girl! Your sister is in the hospital and you're making up sci-fi delusions for attention?" She swung again. "It's just a piece of paper! Let him take care of her for one night! You are unbelievably toxic!"

Bruce stood in the doorway, shaking his head in absolute disappointment. He slammed the heavy oak door right in my face.

My knees gave out. The cold linoleum crashed against my shins. Air trapped in my windpipe. A severe tremor ripped through my spine.

Above me, the glowing red hourglass bled out another massive chunk of sand.

I wasn't lying. I pressed my forehead against the freezing hospital wall.

Tomorrow, I become nothing.

The hospital corridor was dead quiet when Ryker finally stepped out. "Maeve, look I'm sorry." He ran a frustrated hand through his messy hair. "I really cannot leave. Her anxiety is off the charts. She refuses her meds unless I'm the one giving them to her."

I stared at the man I loved. My vision tunneled. "Tomorrow morning. First thing. The courthouse." My voice was hollow, devoid of any pitch. "Ryker, I am out of time."

He blinked, the tension draining from his shoulders. A slow, arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Damn. You're that obsessed with locking me down, huh?"

I didn't blink. I didn't smile back. "Yes. The only reason I exist in this world is to marry you."

He leaned in, his lips brushing my cheeka fleeting, obligatory pressure. "Alright, crazy. Go home. I'll get her to sleep and meet you at the apartment. We'll be the first ones at the courthouse when the doors open."

The warmth in his eyes acted like a momentary anesthetic. The crushing weight on my chest eased slightly. Just sign the papers. Then the nightmare ends.

My hand subconsciously drifted to my lower stomach. The fabric of my shirt felt impossibly thin under my fingertips. I had a secret. A surprise waiting for him, once we were finally safe.

Sunlight stabbed through the blinds. I shot up.

The sheets beside me were cold. Smooth.

Ryker never came home.

9:00 AM.

The spectral hourglass suspended in my vision was brutally half-empty.

Beep. A long, piercing frequency split my skull. "Twelve hours remaining." Arlo's voice was devoid of mercy. "Accelerate your progress, Maeve."

I shoved our marriage license and IDs into my purse. My fingers shook uncontrollably as I typed out a text. "Heading to the courthouse now. What's your ETA?"

I stood on the courthouse steps. The wind ripped right through my thin sweater. No response. I hit call. One ring. Call Ended. He declined it.

A text bubble finally popped up. "Simon is doing morning rounds. Be a good girl and wait outside for a bit."

A second later, a photo loaded. It was a selfie. Gemma, looking frail and delicate, was fast asleep. Her face was buried deep into the curve of Ryker's neck.

Chapter 3

My eyes burned as I stared at the photo. Their interlaced fingers dominated the screen.

A memory surfaced. Two years ago, Dr. Simon had issued a clinical directive to ease Gemmas severe anxiety and depression: At least a ten-minute hug every day with Ryker.

At first, Ryker despised it. He would literally set a timer on his phone. The second the ten minutes ended, he would sprint to the bathroom and scrub his skin raw under scalding water. He used to bury his face in my neck, whining about how he couldn't stand being that close to anyone but me.

I didn't notice when the timers stopped. I didn't notice when holding her hand and pulling her into his chest became second nature.

By then, he was touching my sister far more than he touched me.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I typed out a quick text. "Get here soon. The courthouse closes at noon."

In my periphery, Arlos digital hourglass bled out another two large chunks of sand. Two hours gone.

I stood shivering at the intersection. It was the only route to the courthouse. I would spot him the second he turned the corner. I checked my screen again. Left on read.

The sand slipped faster. It was almost noon. Then, a massive matte-black G-Wagon idled at the distant red light. License plate: 888. Ryker.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I practically jumped off the curb, my freezing fingers tightly crushing the ultrasound printout in my pocket.

Ryker had the classic tragic backstoryorphaned young, forced to build his empire from nothing. He craved family more than anything. Every night, when the lights were out and our bodies were tangled together, he would drag his lips across my lower stomach. "Give me a baby, Maeve," his voice would drop into that dark, raspy register.

I was going to hand him the sonogram the second we signed the marriage certificate. A genuine smile finally broke across my numb face. I stepped toward the street to wave him down.

The G-Wagons engine roared. He didn't brake. The heavy tires tore through a puddle of icy slush, spraying dirty, freezing water directly across my face and coat.

My jaw dropped. My trembling fingers fumbled with my phone, accidentally hitting the video call button. It connected instantly.

Ryker was on the screen. His knuckles were bone-white as he gripped the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscle ticked frantically. "What is it, Maeve?" he ground out, his voice unnaturally tight. "I'm busy."

"You just drove right past the courthouse," I stammered, swiping freezing slush from my eyelashes. "It's almost noon. I've been waiting out here for hours."

Ryker didn't answer. His heavy brows snapped together. A sudden, guttural groan ripped from the back of his throat. He quickly masked it with a series of muffled, forced coughs. "Maeve, I think I'm coming down with something," he wheezed. "I need to hit a CVS for a mask. Don't want to get you sick."

He looked terrible. A bead of sweat slid down his flushed temple. His chest heaved with short, ragged breaths. His Adam's apple bobbed sharply as he swallowed hard. My chest immediately tightened with worry. "Pull over. Let me take you to the ER first, then we can"

A sound cut me off. A high-pitched, breathy whimper. A womans gasp, echoing clearly inside the cabin of his truck.

"Look, I gotta go" Ryker's voice cracked, dropping an octave. "I'm rushing to get Gemma those exclusive pastries from that bakery she likes. Just wait for me. I'll be there soon."

"Ryker"

Did he completely forget that I had been waiting out here all morning?

The phone fumbled. The camera jerked downwards, the lens diving toward his lap.

My lungs stopped expanding.

In that fractured second of blurry footage, I saw a pair of delicate hands. They were gripping the heavy leather of Ryker's belt. On the left ring finger, a diamond sparkled.

My wedding band.

Call Ended. The screen went black.

Ice instantly flooded my veins. A phantom hand shoved its way down my throat, twisting my insides into a sickening knot. The street noise vanished into a deafening, high-pitched ring.

I refused to breathe. I refused to let the image process in my brain.

My thumbs struck the screen, shattering the silence with forceful, erratic taps. "The courthouse closes at 5:00 PM. I am not leaving this spot. Do not forget what today is, Ryker. You promised me."

Chapter 4

I collapsed onto the concrete curb. My eyes were glued to the phantom hourglass suspended in the air.

One chunk of sand dropped at 1:00 PM, followed by another agonizing plummet at 3:00 PM. Hours bled into the freezing rain until the final grains for the afternoon began to slip away. It was almost five.

The courthouse doors were shutting.

My legs were completely numb, heavy blocks of ice. I dragged my freezing body up the marble steps, pressing my shoulder against the heavy glass doors. If Ryker pulled up right now, we could still sprint inside.

My shaking thumbs hit his contact name again. The subscriber you are calling is currently unavailable. Straight to voicemail. His phone was off.

Ding. A notification slashed across my screen. The family group chat.

Gemma had uploaded a video. Ryker was in our kitchen. His sleeves were rolled up over his thick forearms, expertly tossing a heavy skillet over an open flame. Gemma tagged me. "Dont worry, Maeve! Ryker got me home safe. Come back and eat~"

He made garlic butter shrimp! Bruce and Lorraine immediately spammed the chat. "Now that is a real man! Knows exactly how to take care of his girl! Careful, honey. You just got out of the hospital. Don't eat anything too greasy."

Another video popped up. Ryker was pouring a splash of white wine into the pan, his deep, resonant laugh filling the kitchen. "Don't worry, Bruce, Lorraine," his voice was warm and entirely stress-free. "I made a special, light version just for Gemmas stomach."

A physical spike drove right through my temples.

I am violently allergic to shrimp.

He forgot. He forgot my allergy, and he forgot our wedding day.

The sky broke open. Icy rain poured down in sheets, instantly soaking through my thin sweater. Through the blur of freezing rain, the heavy courthouse doors swung shut. The interior lights flicked off.

The final couple walked down the steps, huddled laughing under a shared umbrella, waving their marriage certificate.

My wet shoe slipped on the slick marble. I slammed onto the concrete, my knees tearing open on the rough stone.

A ragged, ugly sob ripped out of my throat. The freezing rain and the stinging cuts on my legs were absolutely nothing compared to the violent shredding inside my chest. I curled into a tight ball, wrapping both arms protectively over my flat stomach. "The courthouse is closed," I gasped, choking on rainwater and tears. "Arlo are the baby and I going to die?"

A sharp, metallic static buzzed in my frontal lobe. "Due to courthouse operational constraints, an alternative mission parameter has been unlocked." Arlos robotic voice echoed. "Secure a verbal promise of marriage from Ryker before the countdown expires."

The hourglass shattered and reformed. Three chunks of sand remained. Less than three hours.

I sprinted all the way home. I shoved the front door open, water dripping from my matted hair.

The breath vanished from my lungs.

Rykers massive frame was on the floor, on his hands and knees. Gemma was sitting straddled across his lower back, giggling uncontrollably.

I froze. A hollow, broken laugh spilled from my lips. Years ago, I had tried to jump on his back like that. He had flicked my forehead, his tone firm and serious. "A man doesn't bow for anyone, Maeve. I'm not a pony ride."

But for her, the rules shattered.

Bruce and Lorraine were lounging on the sofa, grinning at the domestic scene. Bruces smile vanished the second he saw my soaked, shivering frame. "Why the hell are you back so late?" he snapped. "Your dinner is cold. Clean up the kitchen when you're done."

Rykers laughter died in his throat. He immediately stood up, catching Gemma by the waist to set her down gently. "Maeve, look, I'm sorry about today, I"

"Ryker." I cut him off. My trembling fingers reached into my soaked pocket and pulled out the crumpled, water-stained ultrasound printout. "I'm pregnant."

The living room plunged into a dead silence.

My eyes locked onto his. "Will you marry me?" I choked out, my voice raw and desperate. "Just say yes. Promise me right now, and I will forgive every single thing you did today."

Ryker turned to stone. His jaw slacked. His Adam's apple bobbed sharply as he swallowed, but no sound came out.

Bruce and Lorraine leaped off the sofa. Lorraine lunged forward, slapping her hands tightly over Gemmas ears. "Maeve! Have you lost your damn mind?" Lorraine screamed, her face flushed with fury. "Your sister literally just got discharged!"

"You are trying to trap him into a marriage with a fake pregnancy?" Bruce roared, stepping aggressively toward me. "Are you actively trying to kill your sister?"

"I'm not lying!" I refused to look at them. My eyes stayed ruthlessly pinned to Ryker's frozen face.

Chapter 5

It felt like an eternity before Ryker finally spoke. His gaze never left Gemmas deathly pale face. "Of course I will," he forced the words out. "But you know Gemmas mental state right now she cant handle us getting married."

Total silence from Arlo. The deafening, rhythmic tick-tock in my skull didn't even skip a beat.

I threw myself forward, my shaking fingers digging into his forearm. "Ryker please." The desperation clawed at my throat. "Just for the baby. Just mean it. Ask me to marry you, and mean it. Just once."

He wrenched his arm away. A deep crease formed between his heavy brows. "Maeve, stop pushing it!" he snapped, pure annoyance bleeding into his tone. "I said I'd marry you! But I'm not doing this right now. You know she literally cannot survive without me."

Gemma shoved past Bruce and Lorraine. She dropped to her knees right in front of me. Heavy, theatrical tears tracked down her cheeks. "Maeve stop lying to manipulate him." Her voice was a fragile whisper. "You already know, don't you? You know I'm the one pregnant with his baby."

Static exploded behind my eyes as my desperate gaze snapped from Ryker to Bruce, and finally to Lorraine. I searched their faces for a shred of shock or outrage, but found nothing but a chilling, rehearsed blankness.

Ryker reached down, hauling Gemma up and instantly tucking her against his chest. His dark eyes locked onto mine. "Are you really that shocked?" he enunciated every single word. "You're the one who begged me to take care of her."

The syllables hit the air weightless, but the impact tore straight through my ribs. Bile burned the back of my throat. I collapsed onto the hardwood, my stomach convulsing as I dry-heaved over the floorboards.

I grabbed the hem of his jeans, completely unhinged. "So you're taking responsibility for her?" I shrieked, my vocal cords tearing. "What about me? What about our baby?"

He kicked his leg back, breaking my grip. The temperature in the room plummeted. "Back off!" he roared. "Even if you are pregnant too, Gemma is my only priority right now. If I leave her, she will literally die!"

A vicious cramp twisted through my lower abdomen. I curled inward, watching helplessly as he swept Gemma into his arms. He carried her straight into our master bedroom, his deep voice dropping to a gentle murmur, coaxing her to stop crying.

Lorraine grabbed my upper arm. Her acrylic nails dug deep into my flesh as she dragged me out onto the freezing balcony. "Maeve, do you know why she collapsed today?" Lorraine hissed, her eyes bloodshot. "Because she's pregnant and the guilt is eating her alive! Can you just be the bigger person for once? You can find another guy. Gemma cannot function without Ryker."

I stared at the woman who gave birth to me. Hot, blinding tears blurred my vision. "But I'm pregnant! What about my baby?"

Bruce stepped onto the balcony, letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh. "Get an abortion, Maeve. We're begging you. We cannot survive losing Gemma again."

Above their heads, the digital hourglass bled its final grains