Seven Years Lost: My Firefighter fiancé Saved Everyone But Our Love - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Three years passed in a blur.
I'd spent those years building my own design brand from scratch, living a quiet but solid life.
News about Arthur trickled in through my parents occasionally.
At first, they'd dance around the details, worried I'd get upset.
But once they realized I'd actually moved on, they started spilling the real tea.
Turns out the day I left, Natalie lost her shit about Arthur handing her off to another firefighter.
She went crying to him, but he basically told her to fuck off and slammed the door in her face.
Word spread through the firehouse like wildfire. Natalie got dirty looks everywhere she went, and life became hell for her.
Finally she had a complete meltdown at the station, claiming Arthur had been perving on her—taking creep shots, and said she was only getting hassled because she'd rejected his advances.
Security footage did show Arthur pointing his phone at Natalie a lot, and since everyone knew about our seven-year relationship, it definitely looked sketchy as hell.
Arthur got demoted, but the department still made him handle Natalie's "psychological counseling."
The guy already had feelings for her, and she was apologizing and sweet-talking him 24/7.
By the end of year one after I'd bailed, they were Instagram official.
My parents kept checking my reaction when they told me, going "men move on fast, it's normal."
Honestly? I saw it coming a mile away.
The second I walked through that security checkpoint, I knew we were done for good.
Didn't matter who he ended up with—just another face, another name.
What nobody expected was that this was just karma getting started.
Six months into their marriage, Natalie's mask completely slipped.
That sweet, fragile act? Gone. She became this controlling, psycho nightmare.
If Arthur was even ten minutes late getting home, she'd trash the entire apartment.
First, she'd just lose it behind closed doors. But when Arthur started working late to avoid her, she'd storm into the firehouse and cause scenes.
Arthur's job was literally life-or-death—one distracted second in a burning building could kill someone.
I used to never call or text when he was on duty out of respect. Natalie did the exact opposite.
She demanded instant replies to her texts, wanted him picking up calls during emergencies, even made him ditch urgent calls to come home for dinner.
Arthur kept giving in to keep the peace, and within a year, he got moved from active duty to desk work.
Still wasn't enough for Princess Crazy. Getting pregnant just made her worse.
Arthur would get called home from the station for bullshit like "I want pizza from that place across town" or "I can't sleep, come tell me a bedtime story."
Second winter after their wedding, Natalie showed up at his work pregnant and ready to fight. They were screaming at each other in the hallway.
She was crying and yelling. "You didn't care anymore now that you married me."
Arthur finally lost it and shouted: "Can you just act like a fucking adult for once?"
He shoved her grabbing hands away, knocked a coffee mug off the desk, and glass went flying everywhere. Natalie stepped back, tripped, and went down hard.
Blood started pooling under her dress, soaking into the firehouse floor.
By the time the ambulance got there, the baby was gone and Natalie's injuries meant she'd probably never get pregnant again.
After that, they became the station's soap opera—screaming matches every few days, everyone giving them a wide berth.
My parents were filling me in on all this while I was changing Ivan's diaper, afternoon sun streaming through our apartment windows.
"Guess that's karma for you," Mom sighed.
But honestly? I felt nothing.
His life stopped being my business the second he left me at that altar.
The day I flew back to New York, JFK was packed as usual.
I'd just grabbed my luggage when I spotted Arthur standing in the crowd with a bouquet of red roses.
Three years had destroyed him. He was way too skinny, bloodshot eyes, looking like he'd been living on energy drinks and regret.
"Kayla." He approached with shaky hands, offering the bouquet. "Welcome back."
I didn't take them, just smiled politely: "Thanks, but I'm good."
His hand froze mid-air, and before he could say anything else, this shrill voice cut through the noise:
"ARTHUR! I FUCKING KNEW IT!"
Natalie came charging over looking like absolute hell—hair everywhere, mascara streaked down her cheeks. When she saw me, her eyes went nuclear:
"Kayla? You've got some nerve coming back here!"
Arthur pushed her away, annoyed: "Are you fucking done making a scene?"
"Making a scene?" Natalie laughed like a maniac, pointing right at my face.
"You're gonna pick a fight with your wife over this bitch? Who was begging me to be with him three years ago? Now your precious ex is back and you want to dump me?"
Arthur rubbed his temples: "Jesus Christ, can you stop acting fucking crazy?"
They started screaming at each other again, and when their spit was literally flying in my direction, Ivan poked his little head out of Zander's arms:
"Mommy, why are they so loud?"
Zander pulled our son closer and looked at me: "Come on, your parents are waiting outside."
Zander was this grad student I'd met at art school in London—bonded over a design exhibition, then discovered we both loved vintage shopping and collecting old postcards.
Two years married now, and Ivan just turned eighteen months—chunky little butterball and looks exactly like his daddy's mini-me.
Arthur's eyes went from Zander's arm around my waist to Ivan's face, and his expression went from confusion to devastation:
"That's... that's your baby?!"