Half a month ago, Xavier called me after work to say he had an appointment and that I shouldn’t wait up.

But then I saw Loretta’s latest social media post. In it, there was a beautiful birthday cake, and Xavier was placing a birthday hat on her head.

The caption read as followed.

"It's my 23rd birthday, and I'm so happy to have someone I love with me!"

That night, I cried myself to sleep.

In the middle of the night, the hospital called to tell me my mother was in critical condition.

It was pouring rain, and I waited ages for a taxi.

By the time I reached the hospital, my mother was already covered with a white sheet.

I knelt by her bed and cried until I passed out.

When I woke up, I knew it was time to let go of this marriage.

Xavier's knuckles turned white as he gripped the crumpled paper.

He didn't ask why I hadn’t told him.

He knew. I had made dozens of calls that night, and he had heartlessly ignored them all.

After a long silence, he finally spoke again.

"It's better that she's gone. If she knew you were acting like this, she'd have pissed off to death."

His cold words hit me right where it hurt.

I couldn't hold back any longer and slapped him across the face.

We had been in love for ten years, through countless arguments, but I was always the one who gave in.

Xavier's expression turned icy. He grabbed his coat from the hanger and walked out without a word.

He expected me to apologize and beg him to stay, like I always did before.

But this time, I stayed silent and let him leave.

Everyone saw our relationship as a fairy tale.

No one could believe that the top student in school, the model student loved by teachers, would end up with a troubled teenager who was always at the bottom of the class, smoking and fighting.

Xavier was an illegitimate child, lacking any real discipline, and was notorious for dragging down the class average.

Frustrated, our teacher, during a routine seat change, paired me with him in a so-called one-to-one assistance program.

With a sincere intention to help, I began tutoring him, explaining each problem patiently.

Every time, he would raise his fist, threatening to beat me if I annoyed him.

But even with tears in my eyes, I didn't give up and kept trying to help him.

Maybe my persistence got through to him. Eventually, he gave up resisting and reluctantly laid his head on the desk, listening as I explained over and over.

A month later, in the exams, his scores shot up, and he moved up to third from the bottom.

Excited, I packed a bag full of snacks and went to his house to encourage him.

But when I arrived, I found his mother beating him with a belt, screaming and berating him.

"You useless thing! I should have drowned you in the toilet!

"I thought being a son would make the Torres family care about you! But you're so worthless they won't even look at you!"

Summoning all my courage, I rushed over and stood in front of him.

"Ma'am, you can't talk to him like that. Everyone has their own strengths!"

Xavier pushed me away from behind and kicked me twice, his blows vicious and desperate.

"Go away! I don't need your pity!"

Afterward, he tossed all the snacks I brought him into the trash and shredded the notes I had painstakingly prepared for him after staying up all night.

My friends all told me I was crazy for wasting my time on someone like him.

But it was also Xavier who, without hesitation, jumped in to save me when I fell into the water.

He used every ounce of his strength to pull me to shore, holding me tightly as I shivered uncontrollably.

For once, his usually arrogant face was filled with fear.

He buried his head in my neck and sobbed.

"Serena, I'm sorry. I just can't say it out loud. You mean so much to me!

"I don't want to lose you. Can you let me protect you from now on?"

He stayed by my side in the ambulance, gripping my hand all the way to the hospital.

The doctor joked and asked if he was so nervous because I was his girlfriend.

Blushing, he nodded, begging the doctor to save me as if we were in a TV drama, making everyone laugh.

After that day, he started working hard, determined to get into the same university as me.

He said I was so naive that I’d definitely get bullied without him around.

But now, he was the one bullying me.

After college, Xavier launched his own business.

In those days, we were incredibly poor, living in a tiny attic that was drafty in winter and leaked in summer.

Money was tight, and every penny had to be carefully spent.

It’s no exaggeration to say we couldn’t afford meat more than once a week.

But we were happy. We held hands everywhere we went, and even laughed and played while cooking in our cramped kitchen.

Back then, we only had eyes for each other.

As his business flourished, his success grew. Our home got bigger, and the money flowed in.

But as time went on, we spent less and less time together, and the hands that once held each other gradually drifted apart without us realizing it.

Six months ago, Loretta, freshly graduated, started working beside Xavier.

He often mentioned how his new assistant was lively and energetic, reminding him of me when I had just graduated.

I never imagined it would take so little time for her to push me out of his life.

"Ms. Wright, do you want to keep this pregnancy?"

The doctor’s concerned words snapped me out of my thoughts.

My hand, holding the examination report, trembled slightly.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Doctor, please arrange for an abortion as soon as possible."

I never expected to be pregnant at such a bad time.

Since I was set on divorcing Xavier, there was no need to create any further ties between us.

As I held the prescription and prepared to pay the bill, I unexpectedly ran into Loretta.

"Serena, what brings you here?"

She glanced up at the "Obstetrics" sign behind me and covered her mouth in feigned shock.

"Serena, are you pregnant? That's wonderful!"

Her faux surprise was revolting.

I gave her a cold, indifferent look.

"No, I just happened to walk past this department."

I was so focused on brushing her off that I didn't notice when Xavier appeared beside me.

His face was sullen, and he was holding a large bag of medicine.

The moment he arrived, Loretta leaned into his arms, looking weak and pale, and spoke to me in a frail voice.

"Serena, don’t misunderstand. I’ve been feeling unwell all day, and Mr. Torres insisted on bringing me to the doctor. It’s so frustrating. The doctor prescribed all these stomach medications, and I hate taking medicine!"

Her eyes flashed with a blatant challenge, making mine sting with unshed tears.

"Mr. Torres, we should get back to work. We still have several meetings to attend."

She tugged at Xavier’s sleeve, softly reminding him.

Xavier ignored her and stared intently at the prescription in my hand.

"Are you feeling unwell? Why didn’t you tell me?"

When I stayed silent, he reached out to take the bill from my hand.

I pulled my hands behind my back, a flash of disgust in my eyes.

"It’s just a minor cold. Don’t worry about it, Mr. Torres."

I turned around to leave, but Xavier blocked my way.

"Serena, stop being difficult. You look awful. Let me take you home."

He moved to support me, but Loretta suddenly clutched her stomach and squatted down, her face twisted in pain.

She looked up, assuring Xavier she was fine, even as she winced.

Caught between us, Xavier looked at me awkwardly, then withdrew his hand.

"Serena, get a taxi. I’ll join you shortly."

Without waiting for my response, he turned to help Loretta up.

I turned away, letting tears fall onto the back of my hands.

Just moments ago, I had wondered if I should keep this child.

Now, it was clear to me—he didn't deserve it.

The cold operating table made me want to run away.

But the memory of Xavier and Loretta at the hospital entrance, kissing passionately without a care in the world, filled me with a chilling resolve.

I quietly watched the anesthetic flow into my veins.

The procedure was over sooner than I expected, and within an hour, I could get out of bed on my own.

The woman in the next bed was sobbing softly, cradled gently in her husband’s arms.

I felt a pang of sorrow, remembering what it felt like to be loved and cherished.

After following the doctor's instructions and picking up my medication, I took a taxi home.

I went back to my own space.