My wedding day.
The music swelled at the Boston Yacht Club.
I stood at the altar, eyes fixed on the aisle, waiting for Sarah, my fiancée.
The woman I' d built my tech career around.
The doors opened.
There she was, beautiful, but her face was a hard mask I didn' t recognize.
She took the microphone from the officiant.
"Ethan," she announced, her voice amplified for everyone to hear.
"I can' t marry you today."
The silence was physical.
"I' m pregnant," she continued, a small, triumphant smile on her lips.
"And the baby isn' t yours, Ethan. It' s Mark' s."