Seven Years Lost: My Firefighter fiancé Saved Everyone But Our Love - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading Seven Years Lost: My Firefighter fiancé Saved Everyone But Our Love, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of Seven Years Lost: My Firefighter fiancé Saved Everyone But Our Love.
Arthur's POV
When I found out Kayla was pregnant, I felt like I was being torn in half—excited about the baby, but still hooked on that rush I got from Natalie.
Seven years with Kayla had been like drinking warm milk every day.
Comforting, sure, but sometimes you crave a shot of whiskey.
Natalie was my whiskey—dangerous and addictive as hell.
Didn't hit me how badly I'd screwed up until Kayla said she was terminating the pregnancy.
I spent all night in the rain outside her parents' house, but she never came down.
Later I figured she'd probably known about Natalie for a while—Kayla was too sharp to miss the signs.
She just never confronted me about it.
The day she actually went through with the abortion, I hid in the hospital stairwell, and honestly? Part of me felt relieved.
Seven years felt like a noose around my neck. When she left, I could finally breathe again.
I told myself I'd mess around with Natalie for a while, then win Kayla back.
She was too in love with me to stay gone forever, right?
Those first few months with Natalie were incredible.
She was playful, clingy, threw little tantrums like a kitten—nothing like Kayla's composed, predictable reactions.
But once the novelty wore off, all I had left was constant irritation.
She monitored my every move, caused drama at the firehouse, clung to me like some desperate stalker.
When she got pregnant, I was actually kind of happy.
I thought maybe having a kid would settle things down, give me a chance to be a decent husband and father.
But then she found those old photos of Kayla on my phone, stormed into the firehouse screaming, and fell in all that blood...
When the doctor said she'd never have kids again, I felt... nothing. Maybe even relieved that there wouldn't be anything tying us together.
I spent three years waiting for Kayla to come New York.
During those three years, I got colder and colder toward Natalie. Her tears, her begging—I just tuned it all out.
I kept telling myself once Kayla came back, I'd divorce Natalie and get my real life back on track. Natalie was just a pit stop.
Seeing Kayla emerge from JFK nearly stopped my heart.
She was even more beautiful than before—polished, confident, like she'd been upgraded to the premium version of herself.
I walked over with those roses, ready to drop the apology speech I'd been perfecting for months.
But she shut me down without even blinking.
Didn't faze me. Kayla always played hard to get at first.
Then that psycho Natalie came charging over, and I shoved her away, already planning to file for divorce that night.
That's when he appeared, and Kayla smiled as she introduced him:
"This is my husband, Zander." The little boy in her arms had Kayla's eyes and was calling her "Mommy."
Felt like someone had cracked my skull open with a baseball bat.
She was married. Had a kid. Had moved on completely while I'd been stuck in the past, dreaming about something that was already dead.
Natalie was crying, asking if I regretted everything, and I said hell yes—I regretted not cutting her loose years ago.
I meant every word, but she must've misunderstood because she slit her wrists that same night.
When I found her body in that bloody bathtub, my first thought was: "Finally, I'm free."
But then the nightmares started.
I'd dream of Natalie covered in blood asking, "Arthur, why don't you love me anymore?"
And Kayla, looking at me like I was a complete stranger.
I started drinking heavily, talking to empty rooms when I was wasted.
All those what-ifs kept eating at me—what if I'd never gotten involved with Natalie, what if I'd stopped Kayla from leaving, what if our baby had lived...
But there are no what-ifs.
Kayla was right: some people, once you lose them, are gone forever.
Standing on that rooftop 28 floors up, wind whipping like crazy, I could see the whole city spread out below.
Thought I spotted Kayla and Zander in Central Park with Ivan, flying a kite and laughing their asses off.
The next second, the kite string snapped and I became that kite—falling free.
When the news reported my death, Kayla turned off the TV and calmly fed Ivan.
Maybe that's for the best.
Now she'll never have to waste another second thinking about what a colossal fuckup I turned out to be.
When I found out Kayla was pregnant, I felt like I was being torn in half—excited about the baby, but still hooked on that rush I got from Natalie.
Seven years with Kayla had been like drinking warm milk every day.
Comforting, sure, but sometimes you crave a shot of whiskey.
Natalie was my whiskey—dangerous and addictive as hell.
Didn't hit me how badly I'd screwed up until Kayla said she was terminating the pregnancy.
I spent all night in the rain outside her parents' house, but she never came down.
Later I figured she'd probably known about Natalie for a while—Kayla was too sharp to miss the signs.
She just never confronted me about it.
The day she actually went through with the abortion, I hid in the hospital stairwell, and honestly? Part of me felt relieved.
Seven years felt like a noose around my neck. When she left, I could finally breathe again.
I told myself I'd mess around with Natalie for a while, then win Kayla back.
She was too in love with me to stay gone forever, right?
Those first few months with Natalie were incredible.
She was playful, clingy, threw little tantrums like a kitten—nothing like Kayla's composed, predictable reactions.
But once the novelty wore off, all I had left was constant irritation.
She monitored my every move, caused drama at the firehouse, clung to me like some desperate stalker.
When she got pregnant, I was actually kind of happy.
I thought maybe having a kid would settle things down, give me a chance to be a decent husband and father.
But then she found those old photos of Kayla on my phone, stormed into the firehouse screaming, and fell in all that blood...
When the doctor said she'd never have kids again, I felt... nothing. Maybe even relieved that there wouldn't be anything tying us together.
I spent three years waiting for Kayla to come New York.
During those three years, I got colder and colder toward Natalie. Her tears, her begging—I just tuned it all out.
I kept telling myself once Kayla came back, I'd divorce Natalie and get my real life back on track. Natalie was just a pit stop.
Seeing Kayla emerge from JFK nearly stopped my heart.
She was even more beautiful than before—polished, confident, like she'd been upgraded to the premium version of herself.
I walked over with those roses, ready to drop the apology speech I'd been perfecting for months.
But she shut me down without even blinking.
Didn't faze me. Kayla always played hard to get at first.
Then that psycho Natalie came charging over, and I shoved her away, already planning to file for divorce that night.
That's when he appeared, and Kayla smiled as she introduced him:
"This is my husband, Zander." The little boy in her arms had Kayla's eyes and was calling her "Mommy."
Felt like someone had cracked my skull open with a baseball bat.
She was married. Had a kid. Had moved on completely while I'd been stuck in the past, dreaming about something that was already dead.
Natalie was crying, asking if I regretted everything, and I said hell yes—I regretted not cutting her loose years ago.
I meant every word, but she must've misunderstood because she slit her wrists that same night.
When I found her body in that bloody bathtub, my first thought was: "Finally, I'm free."
But then the nightmares started.
I'd dream of Natalie covered in blood asking, "Arthur, why don't you love me anymore?"
And Kayla, looking at me like I was a complete stranger.
I started drinking heavily, talking to empty rooms when I was wasted.
All those what-ifs kept eating at me—what if I'd never gotten involved with Natalie, what if I'd stopped Kayla from leaving, what if our baby had lived...
But there are no what-ifs.
Kayla was right: some people, once you lose them, are gone forever.
Standing on that rooftop 28 floors up, wind whipping like crazy, I could see the whole city spread out below.
Thought I spotted Kayla and Zander in Central Park with Ivan, flying a kite and laughing their asses off.
The next second, the kite string snapped and I became that kite—falling free.
When the news reported my death, Kayla turned off the TV and calmly fed Ivan.
Maybe that's for the best.
Now she'll never have to waste another second thinking about what a colossal fuckup I turned out to be.
End of Seven Years Lost: My Firefighter fiancé Saved Everyone But Our Love Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to Seven Years Lost: My Firefighter fiancé Saved Everyone But Our Love book page.