Now, a year later and I barely recognized myself.
My maroon framed glasses were the only sign on my body that told people I liked the color, but you didn’t hear me complaining. I had a plan, goals.
I was going to be a kick-ass Doctor. Nevermind if I lost a little bit of myself along the way. Who the hell cared if I lost weight and became a shell of the person I once was? So, fucking what, if I was god damn miserable?
I had goals dammit.
Let me tell you the thing about goals, they mean nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing if you aren’t paying attention to the obstacles because there are always obstacles.
Mine came in a six-foot, two-hundred-pound male named Landon Bennet. He was gorgeous, perfect teeth, perfect hair and a laugh that had me making many mistakes in my life. I met him on the second day of my second year at Harvard.
When I think about how cliche it sounds, saying he was so perfect, so gorgeous, I think of how young and naive I was back then.
I recall how stupid and foolish I was. He was a junior partner at a law firm, six-years older than me. And I shit you not, he was my biology professor’s brother.
He charmed me within a week, took my virginity in a month and snatched my heart in three. I was a goner for a handsome face and a dazzling smile and in just a year I was Mrs. Hannah Bennet.
In my third year of med-school, my days were spent on Campus and hospitals whilst my nights split into attending Galas or Charity events always ending under Landon.
I failed my third year and Landon insisted I didn’t need to work. I should stay at home, he said. Studying wasn’t important, I was a kept woman. And like the good wife I was, agreed with him.
That was the second mistake I made. I should’ve never left Harvard.
My parents were devastated. And my brothers? they didn’t even talk to me. That was when I made my third mistake, I cut my family out. I forgot about them, ignored them and eventually, they forgot about me too.
Looking back, I think it was in the third year of our marriage that Landon changed. He wanted a son; I couldn’t give it to him.
I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t fall pregnant. The doctors insisted I was fine. Landon was fine, we were both young fertile people. We had a great sex life, we never used protection, I couldn’t understand it.
That should’ve been my first sign but remember I said I wasn’t paying attention. At this stage in my life, I had one goal, pleasing my husband and that was having a baby.
Unfortunately, my husband didn’t feel as pleased with me as I thought. I found this out in our fourth year of marriage when a woman walked up to our door with a baby in her arms claiming it was Landon’s son. It was Landon’s son.
My husband was cheating on me. Of course, he blamed the entire thing on me. Accusing all of this on me. He said it was my fault because I couldn’t fall pregnant, I couldn’t give him a son.
After that day I stopped being the good wife, I stopped caring for my husband. Because you see that day, I had a secret of my own, I was pregnant.
I filed for divorce three-weeks later. Landon didn’t contest the divorce. He was too wrapped up being a new dad. And I was glad.
If he knew I was carrying his kid I don’t think he would’ve let me go so easy. Then again would he have cared? He let me go without a fight the first time. I don’t think adding a baby after he already had one would’ve changed his mind.
So, there I was, a pregnant twenty-four-year-old divorced, Med-school dropout.
There was no place for me to stay, nothing to fall back on. Not like I could’ve gone home. My parents were no longer an option for me. I burned those bridges for a man who couldn’t keep it in his pants and practically replaced me with an older woman.
I had little to no money in my bank account because when I was getting married, I didn’t stop to think about the anti-nuptial contract I signed.
I was too naive. And let’s just say Landon wasn’t feeling very generous after I destroyed his house. Technically I didn’t blame the guy, I did overdo it.
Throwing a piano out of his window was bound to piss him off. At the time that was the goal, now I was wishing I didn’t. Especially since I was going to have to tell him in nine months that we made a baby together.
I wasn’t a bad person.
Any man, no matter how much of an asshole he turned out to be, deserved to know his kid. Well, at least be given the chance.
I was hoping Landon wouldn’t want that chance.
So pregnant, homeless, and six suitcases full of clothes, shoes, and underwear that wouldn’t fit me in five months, it was very light to say my options were limited. I didn’t know much about what I was going to do, but like always I had a plan, and this time I was finally paying attention.
I was going to move to a small place, where nobody knew Landon Bennet, the famous Mercantile Attorney. I wanted a place where I could just live. Somewhere safe for my baby, cheap for my pocket and far from this City.
A small town. The good thing about America is we had those in spades. There were small towns everywhere. Fewer people, quiet places, perfect for me, safe for my baby.
Choosing a place was the easy part, but getting a job proved tricky. I traveled to Texas and stopped in town after town. I applied for different jobs and when I didn’t get a call back, I moved on.
By the time I finally found my new home, I had sold my jewelry, and pawned five pairs of Jimmy Choo shoes. I had around three hundred dollars in my bank account from living wisely and was eighteen weeks pregnant with my daughter, Jocelyn May Evans the second.
I was also the newest medical secretary for the Med-life hospital in a small town called Kanla. My income would be good enough to rent a small apartment in the outer part of the residential area and support my baby. It was going to be tight, but we’d get by.
That was my goal. I was paying attention and thinking about the bigger picture. I was finally multitasking because I didn’t have a choice. I, Hannah Evans was a single, pregnant woman in a new town.
It was scary starting a life on my own and then bringing a child into the mix. But pray and behold, after fifteen hours of labor pains and an emergency c-section later, on July 15th Jocelyn May Evans the second was born.
I was a mother and for the first time in years I didn’t feel lost, I didn’t feel unwanted, I wasn’t alone anymore. I was the mother of a healthy baby girl. It was then that I decided that the only goal I would ever have was to be the best mother I could be and lord did I try.