I thought I had long since let go of that youthful romance.

But today, when I saw Locke again, all those painful memories resurfaced.

Those memories haven't blurred despite the passage of ten years.

Now I realize that it wasn't him I hated, but the pain of not being able to stand up to my family when I was young. My reaction back then was just the result of a sensitive, insecure teenage pride.

I couldn't bring myself to say the apology I owed him. As he turned and walked away, only the bitter scent of smoke lingered in the air.

When I returned to the private room, I was in a low mood.

I sat in a corner, drank a few too many without realizing it, and then lost consciousness.

That was where my memory ended. What happened last night slowly became clear in my mind.

I must have, under the influence of alcohol and with the excuse of apologizing, spent the night with Locke.

After I got home, I immediately left the class group chat and blocked all my middle school classmates.

Although I'm not so vain as to think Locke would cling to me and demand I take responsibility, I still felt a bit nervous.

Three months have passed, and my life has returned to normal.

Life has been so calm that sometimes I wonder if everything that happened that night was just a figment of my imagination.

However, I'm pregnant.

I didn't dare delay, and before I could develop too much attachment to the child, I quickly scheduled an abortion.

I remember the class president joking that night, telling Locke to invite him to his wedding.

I don't want my child to be born fatherless, carrying the stigma of being illegitimate for a lifetime.

I believe that the mistakes of adults shouldn't be borne by a child.

As I lay on the cold operating table, a dull pain began to stir in my stomach.

It felt like something was gripping me tightly.

I couldn't tell if it was because my child sensed the threat of death.

My heart ached.

This reaction made me sit up.

I thought to myself, "Forget it, I can't bear to do this. What did the child do wrong?"

"Doctor, I..."

Before I could finish, a strong hand pushed me back onto the bed.

The doctor's eyes, the only part visible of his face, seemed oddly familiar.

He picked up a gleaming surgical knife.

When I saw the name tag on his chest that read "Dr. Denton," I froze.

A devilish whisper echoed in my ear. "Ms. Jensen, I'm beginning to suspect you're trying to murder my child."

"The surgery is on hold. I'll need your cooperation for further investigation."