Protecting my belly, I slowly walked out of the hospital.

It had begun to rain. The wind carried a damp chill that rushed toward me. Mist wrapped the street, and the lights were stretched into blurred shadows by the rain.

Through the curtain of rain, I saw Daniel take off his coat and drape it over her shoulders. He shielded her from the rain and helped her into the passenger seat. The movements were smooth and natural, as if he had done them countless times before.

She suddenly looked up, smiling as she grabbed his tie and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Daniel lowered his head and kissed her back. Rain slid down from the ends of his hair.

When they parted, he gently tapped her nose.

She laughed and tugged his tie again, biting lightly at his lower lip.

He did not get angry. Instead, his smile grew wider.

Before the car door closed, she rolled down the window. Her gaze passed through the rain and met mine for a brief moment.

It was a look of victory, completely undisguised.

“Olivia,” she said. Her voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly. “You lost.”

I looked at her and suddenly smiled.

Not out of sarcasm. Not out of stubborn pride.

I simply felt that everything had finally become simple.

“It does not matter,” I said to myself in silence.

“He is nothing more than a man.”

The car started, turned, and disappeared into the rainy night.

I stood beneath the hospital canopy and raised my hand slightly, as if waving goodbye to someone who no longer mattered.

“Daniel,” I whispered, “you no longer belong to me.”

“You are her choice.”

At that moment, I took out my phone and sent everything I had organized over the past few days to my mentor. The bank statements, chat records, videos, and photos were all included.

He was a highly respected divorce lawyer in the field.

I did not hesitate.

No matter how difficult the road ahead would be, I had to reclaim the initiative for my child.

Rain soon soaked the hem of my dress, yet I barely felt it.

My phone lit up again.

It was my mother.

“Olivia, I made you some soup and had it delivered home,” she said, her voice as warm as ever. “Where did you and Danny go? Why are you not back yet?”

Before I could answer, she continued, “You are so far along now, you need to be careful. How could Danny take you out so late?”

In that instant, all the emotions I had been suppressing felt as if a lid had been suddenly ripped open.

My throat tightened. My chest ached.

“Mom, do not worry,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steady. “We just went out to eat something simple.”

“It is raining outside,” I took a breath. “Take your time on the way home. Message me when you arrive, alright?”

I hung up before she could say anything else.

The moment I put the phone down, my tears finally broke free.

I made no sound. I simply stood under the canopy and let the tears run down my face.

The baby inside me moved gently. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my belly.

People passed by me without stopping.

Yet in that moment, I knew with absolute clarity that I was no longer someone who merely endured.

This rain was only the beginning.

That night, Daniel did not come home.

When my phone lit up on the bedside table, I was sitting alone in the dim room, the rain tapping against the window. I glanced down. It was a message from him.

“Olivia, I have to work overtime tonight, so I am sleeping at the office. The weather is getting cold and it is raining. Remember to close the window before bed.

I will always love you.

Your husband.”

I read it without any reaction.

In the past, messages like this would have made me anxious, worried, even driven me to check again and again whether he was safe.

Now, I simply turned the phone face down and did not reply.

It turned out that once a person truly wakes up, even anger disappears.

I once believed I was the luckiest woman in the world. I believed marriage was the most solid fortress there could be.

Reality taught me otherwise. Some vows are meant only for paper. True hearts often hide in the darkest places.

A few days later, the lawyer sent me the divorce agreement.

I printed it out and signed my name on the last page. My handwriting was unnervingly steady. Then I began packing my things, preparing to move back to my mother’s home.

Just as I closed the suitcase, my phone rang.

An unfamiliar number.

When I answered, I heard Carla’s voice.

We agreed to meet at the café downstairs.

When she walked in, she looked composed and confident. She wore slim high heels and carried a shopping bag filled with items. Three months pregnant, she appeared relaxed, certain, as if she were already standing on the winning side.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she said with a smile. “You never replied to my messages.”

I lifted my coffee, my tone calm.

“Why wouldn’t I come? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Leaning back in my chair, I looked at her steadily.

“Daniel and I are legally married. I am not the one who should hide. No matter how hard a third party tries, their identity never changes.”

Her expression darkened instantly. She was about to argue, but I spoke first.

“Oh, and I should thank you.”

I smiled faintly.

“If you hadn’t taken the initiative to send me the chat records and videos, I wouldn’t have gathered all the evidence so quickly.”

She froze.

I placed a few bills under my cup and stood up, one hand supporting my belly.

“Coffee is on me.”

She suddenly stood and grabbed my arm.

“What do you mean by that?”

I pulled my arm back, my voice still steady.

“It means I don’t want him anymore.”

“If you want him, take him.”

She narrowed her eyes, as if trying to decide whether I had another motive. In the next second, she shoved me hard.

I lost my balance and fell heavily to the ground.

The pain came without warning, sharp and tearing, as if something inside me had been ripped apart. I barely had time to react before a violent contraction seized me.

Blood quickly soaked the hem of my dress.

Fear finally shattered my composure. I screamed,

“Please save my baby.”

Chaos erupted around me.

I only saw Carla stumble backward in panic before turning and fleeing.

Forcing myself to stay conscious, I asked the staff to call an ambulance. By the time I was lifted onto the stretcher, I could no longer tell whether the dampness on my skin was rain or cold sweat. My entire body was trembling uncontrollably.

In the ambulance, the nurse asked for my phone password.

After unlocking it, they called my emergency contact, Daniel.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He finally answered on the sixth call.

“Olivia?” His voice was impatient. “I’m in a meeting right now. Something urgent came up. I’ll contact you later, alright? Be good.”

Before the call ended, I clearly heard Carla’s voice in the background.

I looked away, wiped the blood from my hands, and dialed my mother’s number.

My fingers were shaking, but I forced myself to stay steady.

“Mom…” I took a deep breath. “I’m about to give birth.”

Her voice immediately became calm and firm.

“Don’t be afraid. Listen to me. Go to Riverside General Hospital. Bring your documents and follow the doctors’ instructions.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I whispered. “Really.”

The moment I hung up, another wave of pain crashed over me like a tide.

I screamed hoarsely as cold sweat streamed down my back. My consciousness wavered between clarity and blur. I clutched the doctor’s hand with all my strength.

“Please,” I gasped, “save my child.”

I could not lose him again.

This time, no matter the cost, I would protect him.