I suddenly felt a little empty inside, so I walked over to the wine cabinet, thinking I would grab a bottle.

The comments floated past.

[Seriously? If Lyra doesn't want Nolan's baby, she can just get an abortion. There's no need to drink on purpose! Damn, she's evil.]

[Right? She's pregnant, and Nolan doesn't even know yet. He doesn't have a kid later in the plot, so this one's definitely not gonna make it.]

My hand froze in mid-air. Silently, I put the bottle back and locked the cabinet. Then, I sat down on the couch and started wondering what I should do about the baby.

My phone suddenly buzzed. It was a message from Nolan.

"Remember to eat dinner. Don't drink on an empty stomach. Don't stare at your phone in the dark, and don't stay up all night."

I stared at the screen for a long time. All of a sudden, I couldn't bear the thought of getting rid of this baby anymore.

…

A week later, I got a text from the bank. Nolan had transferred some money to me and included a note with it. "Half a month's salary. Use it for now."

It wasn't a lot, and the amount was oddly specific. I stared at the message, zoning out for a while.

The comments exploded.

[So he literally only left himself enough for cheap meals every day!]

[His hands are covered in blisters, yet he's still thinking about his ex-wife.]

I dragged myself up from the couch. I touched my still-flat abdomen and said slowly, "Sweetheart, I think your dad is about to starve."

Then, I walked into the kitchen. I'd basically never set foot in here for the past three years.

Before, it had always been Nolan cooking all kinds of fancy dishes for me. I only knew how to make instant mac and cheese, and I still managed to burn it sometimes.

I looked up a recipe. While following it, I almost cut my hand. I also forgot to add salt. But after two full hours of chaos, I finally managed to make a pot of broth.

Then, I went to the pharmacy to buy iodine and band-aids. From the scattered hints in the comments about the "new development zone in the south of the city", I hailed a cab and headed over.

The construction site was full of dust. I stood at the entrance in my lounge dress and slippers while holding a thermal food carrier, standing out like a sore thumb.

The comments started teasing me.

[Why does she actually look kind of cute dressed like this?]

Just as I was craning my neck and looking around, a white sedan pulled up. Celia stepped out, carrying a delicate lunch box.

She saw me, too. Her smile faltered for a second, then smoothed back into elegance. She walked over to me. "Ms. West? What are you doing in a place like this?"

Her gaze dropped to my food carrier, and she chuckled lightly. "Have you brought lunch for Nolan? He has a sensitive stomach and can't handle anything too greasy."

I looked seriously at the broth I'd made. "It's chicken soup, and it isn't greasy. I skimmed the fat."

Celia took a step closer and lowered her voice. "Ms. West, I think there are a few things you're not getting here. Right now is the hardest time in Nolan's life. What he needs is someone who can help him get back on his feet, not some clingy little ornament who can only make broth."

I thought about what to say for three whole seconds. "But he's doing manual labor right now. That takes strength, not making a comeback."

I paused, then added, "And I'm not a clingy ornament. I can make my own money… I just haven't figured it out yet."

The comments were stunned.

[Celia just got roasted into speechlessness.]

[Lyra's logic is always this bizarre, yet it's also somehow impossible to argue with.]

Just as the atmosphere turned awkward and tense, Nolan walked out of the construction site. His work clothes were covered in dust, and there were band-aids all over his hands. He had sweat on his forehead.

When he saw us, he visibly froze.

Celia immediately went up to him. "Nolan, I brought you lunch…"

But Nolan walked straight toward me instead, his brows furrowing. "Why are you here? There's too much dust."

I held up the food carrier and the bag of medical supplies. "I brought you soup and medical supplies."

Something shifted in his eyes. His fingers trembled slightly as he took the things from me.

Celia's face went pale. "Nolan, I came here for you—"

He turned to her, his voice polite but distant as he said, "Ms. Sanders, thank you for your kindness, but I don't need it. Please don't come again."

With that, Nolan murmured to me, "I'll take you home."

He completely ignored Celia, who'd frozen in place.

We sat in silence in the back of a cab. I glanced at the band-aids on his hands and suddenly said, "Your wounds have dust in them. They're going to get infected."

He pulled them back a little. "I'm fine."

Slowly, I said, "Celia said you two are moving in together."

Nolan snapped his head toward me. "She's talking nonsense!"

His voice was sharp and edged with a rare anger. Then, he realized he'd lost his cool and softened his tone, explaining, "There's nothing between her and me. I'm living in the dorms at the construction site."

I let out a hum and didn't say anything else.

Comments floated out in front of me.

[Wait, are we ever going to find out why Nolan gets so rich later?]

[Does any other male lead have it as rough as he does? I'm speechless!]

The cab pulled up to the villa. Before I got out, Nolan suddenly said, "Don't worry about the money. Just use it, and tell me if it's not enough."

His eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze was steady.

I nodded, remembering I had a prenatal checkup tomorrow. After taking a couple of steps, I turned back. "Will you be working tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Okay. You can get back to your stuff now."

With that, I headed straight into the villa.

Before bed that night, I got a text from an unknown number. "Leave Nolan. You're not good enough for him."

I stared at it for a moment, then lazily typed back, "Are you Celia? You sent the message to the wrong person. I'm his ex-wife."

Then, I blocked the number, turned off my phone, and went to sleep.

…

Early the next morning, I went to the hospital by myself. I registered, waited in line, and waited to be called.

The morning sickness was worse that day. By the time they drew my blood, my face had gone white. After the ultrasound, the doctor said I was slightly anemic and prescribed iron supplements.

I left the exam room, holding the folder with my results and feeling dizzy. I just wanted to find somewhere to sit down, but when I looked up, I saw a crowd gathered near the emergency room.

I spotted Nolan in the middle of that crowd. He was sitting in a chair in the ER, his left hand wrapped in gauze. Celia stood next to him, bending over as she talked to him.

She was holding a cotton swab, trying to dab at the scrapes on his face, but he turned his head away to avoid her. She wouldn't give up and reached out to grab his shoulder. They were intimate enough that they caught the onlookers' attention.

I stood where I was and watched them.

The comments exploded.

[Holy crap! Drama alert!]

[Nolan got hurt saving a coworker at the construction site!]

[Celia heard about it real quick. See how soon she showed up!]

[Wait, I got it! I know why Nolan ends up rich later!]

I was just about to see what the rest of the comments said when I heard Nolan's voice ring out from in front of me.

"Lyra!"

I looked up and saw him shaking Celia off before striding toward me. She tried to grab him again, but he flung her off. He walked fast, taking only a few strides to get to me.

He lowered his gaze and caught sight of the folder in my hands. Printed on the front in big, clear letters were the words "Obstetrics & Gynecology".

Then, he looked up at me, taking in how pale and weak I looked. His whole body went rigid. As his gaze traveled between the folder and my face, his eyes slowly turned bloodshot.

His Adam's apple bobbed hard. When he finally spoke, his voice was so hoarse it almost wouldn't come out. "Are you… pregnant?"

I blinked, trying to remember if I'd forgotten to tell him. I'd meant to ask him to come with me to that day's prenatal checkup, but he had to go to work.

At my silence, Nolan's lips began to quiver. He lifted his left hand, his fingers shaking badly. He didn't dare touch me, though. His voice was broken and raw with despair as he asked, "…Did you get rid of our baby?"