On my way to the hospital for a prenatal check-up, I tripped and fell and lost the baby. For three long days, Charlie Peterson was nowhere to be found.

When I called him for one last time, he still decisively hung up on me. Later, I saw him in his female student's Instagram post.

In her post, he was busily fixing bathroom pipes, scrubbing her toilet and even remodeling her bedroom in her dorm.

The female student happily made a "yeah" sign and added the text, "A man's greatest charm is his ability to solve problems, what should I do? I will love Mr. Paterson, my teacher, for the rest of my life.”

Under her post, Charlie even took some time to respond and wrote, “Then love me forever. I’ll love you forever too. As long as I’m around, you’ll never have to lift a finger for anything.”

I liked the post calmly. Later, Charlie finally remembered to call me back, but the first thing he said was, "Sorry, I can't accompany you for the prenatal check-up this time. I've still got something to do."

I packed my belongings, left the untouched engagement gifts in the house and responded calmly, "That's fine. Just do your business."

Then I added, "Charlie … if you can't figure out what to do, you don't have to do it …Oh and our wedding? Let's just call it off."

The attending doctor said to me, "Bed number nineteen, Patient Rose Jennings. You’re cleared to leave this afternoon. Remember, after a miscarriage, use good contraceptive methods to avoid pregnancy for two years. Also, avoid eating spicy or irritating foods for a month. Come back in a month for a follow-up to check your uterine lining and recovery.”

Then she said, "Oh, right. You still have moderate inflammation. So, you have to maintain your hygiene daily, especially before and after intimacy with your boyfriend."

"Alright," I answered.

The leading doctor prescribed the medicine and explained the time and dosage to be taken.

I listened to her explanation carefully but I was upset.

Before I left the hospital, I tried to call Charlie one last time. Yet, after it rang for a long time, he hung up on me, again. This was not the first time he had done this.

I think I was a masochist because I opened Charlie's female student's Instagram and scrolled through her posts.

There were nine pictures of him. In there, he had taken off his shirt and with his back facing the camera, he knelt on one knee and fixed the clogged sewer pipe. He even held a toilet brush and lowered his head to earnestly clean the toilet for Miranda Miller. The man had changed the single dormitory room into a couple apartments and bought his luggage to move in there.

The student was so happy and put in a "yeah" emoji and added a text that said, "A man's greatest charm is his ability to solve problems, what should I do? I'm going to love my teacher, Mr. Peterson for the rest of my life.”

Underneath, Charlie even took the time to write a comment and it said, "Then love me forever. I’ll love you forever too. As long as I’m around, you’ll never have to lift a finger to do anything.”

Her friends filled the comments with heart emojis and blessings.

I smiled. If only the man in the picture was not my boyfriend, I might have congratulated them too.

What a shame.

Charlie was not just my boyfriend, but he was also a well-known favorite teacher of the college. Miranda was part of the first batch of art major students that he taught after he became the dean of the college.

How far would Charlie pamper Miranda? Well, take this trip for example.

When Miranda was sent to an off-campus location for her sophomore-year fieldwork by the college, he worried she could not adjust to the accommodations of that place. So, he bought the most expensive, last-minute ticket to fly over there to remodel and clean her dorm.

Before that, he was already fretting about her meals and sleep schedule. He was so distraught that he postponed accompanying me to my prenatal check-up.

The irony was that when he was bending over backward for her, I was lying in a hospital because I miscarried our baby after tripping over an electric scooter on the way to have prenatal checkups alone.

Despite being the father of my child, Charlie ignored all the messages I had sent to him and he even refused to answer my phone calls.

I stayed in the hospital for three days. During that time, not once had he ever contacted me. Only when I was on the way home, he finally called me.

"Where are you? Why aren’t you home? Pick up some chili peppers on your way back and be hurry about it," he said.

I parted my dry lips to respond, "Are you coming back?"

All I got was the sound of the call being ended.

So, I did not bring any chilly with me when I arrived. Seeing I returned home empty-handed, Charlie's face darkened with displeasure.

"Where are the chilies that I asked you to buy?" he asked. "Did you forget?"

Before I could respond, he irritably tore off his apron and said angrily, "Did being pregnant make you stupid? Are you having the memory of a goldfish? I could not believe you’re still holding a grudge at me over something so trivial like that!"

He headed for the door, but I stopped him immediately and said, "I can’t eat spicy food, so I didn’t buy any."

Yet, his steps did not falter. It was as though he did not hear me.

I collapsed tiredly onto the sofa and stoked my aching belly. The doctor had warned me that I could not have extreme emotional fluctuations, or it would slow my recovery.

In the beginning, Charlie and I had made an agreement that once the baby was born, we would get our marriage certificate and hold a wedding.

When he returned home, he was not alone. I was in the middle of taking some stuff when I saw her. I froze and at that very moment, I lost all the thought of marrying him.

Seeing my expression, Miranda shivered in fright and greeted me with caution, "Hello, Miss Jennings."

Charlie looked at me with displeasure and scorned, "Tone down your look. You’re scaring her."

Then, he got down to his knee and held Miranda's ankle. With one swift, practiced motion, he lifted her foot and changed her shoes. As I watched, I was fascinated and heartbroken at the same time.

Miranda then plopped onto the sofa and casually turned on the TV to find something to watch.

I furrowed my brows and followed Charlie to the kitchen.

"Didn’t she go out for sketching practice? Why is she back?" I protested. "Why were you helping her change her shoes? Don’t you understand anything about boundaries?"

Meanwhile, Charlie kept washing the vegetables. He did not even spare me a glance when he said, "She came back with me to grab something. She’ll leave in a couple of days. Why?" he asked. "Are you going to throw another one of your pointless tantrums?"

I choked back my words. An overwhelming sense of despair came over me. Then I asked, "So, in your eyes, am I nothing but a senseless, irrational person?"

He didn’t answer. He simply cast a cold glance my way before continuing his task.

I closed my eyes, tears slipping down my lashes. Yet Charlie acted as if he didn’t see it.

The reason he acted like this was because of what happened on our last trip.

A month ago, when I found out I was pregnant, Charlie was ecstatic about it. He immediately arranged for me to take early maternity leave from the principal and planned a vacation for the two of us.

However, when we were about to leave, Miranda said, "Wow, Mr. Peterson. You’re so lucky to go on a trip! I’ve never even left this city. How pitiful of me."

As a result, without a second thought and consulting me, he paid for her plane ticket out of his own pocket. Just like that, what was supposed to be a couple’s getaway turned into a three-person, teachers-student trip.

For seven days and seven nights, they acted like a newlywed couple. Charlie spent the whole trip taking pictures of Miranda and teaching her to find angles for her painting.

Meanwhile, I wandered the streets alone to go shopping and eat or was being the third wheel while trailing behind them.

In those seven days, he and I barely exchanged a few words. The trip ended with me being the only one feeling miserable. Afterward, Charlie laughed it off and gaslighted me.

"She’s just a young and innocent girl, why are you angry at her?" Charlie had said. However, he had forgotten that before Miranda appeared, those moments were ours alone, me and him.

After that trip, I gave him the cold shoulder for a day. Unlike before, he did not try to make amends. Instead, he left me alone in the apartment.

Now, here we were. I could not understand how someone could change so quickly.

As for Miranda, technically, I was her homeroom teacher before my vacation. Back then, Charlie would often come to my class to wait for me so we could eat or go home together. The girls in my class loved to tease me about our relationship and Miranda stood out among them.

She loved hounding me with questions. Her wide eyes would spark with curiosity when she asked, "Miss, Is Mr. Peterson a very patient man?" or, "Teacher, has Mr. Peterson told you when he’ll marry you?"

Now, it hit me. Had Miranda been targeting Charlie all along?

I blinked against the dryness in my eyes.

What about Charlie? When did he decide to let her into his world?

Charlie's cold voice interrupted my thoughts as he set the dishes on the table.

"Dinner’s ready," he said, looking at Miranda.

When his gaze fell on the bag of chips in her hands, he chuckled softly and walked over. Gently he tapped her head and scolded, "It’s almost dinnertime and you’re still snacking? You’re like a child."

Pouting, Miranda replied, "Well, I’m seven years younger than you, so of course I’m a child."

They kept on flirting as if they were alone. They did not notice my face went white like a ghost.

When he raised his body and looked at me, he only said indifferently, "Let's eat.

Even though he said that there were only two bowls on the table, one for him and one for Miranda.

Pressing my lips together, I quietly walked into the kitchen. The moment I opened the rice cooker, my hand froze. There was barely a spoonful of rice left. He had only cooked enough for two.

When I returned to the dining room empty-handed, Miranda tilted her head curiously and asked, "Miss Jennings aren’t you eating?"

I just shook my head without saying anything.

Meanwhile, Charlie peeled a shrimp brought it to Miranda’s lips and said, "Don’t worry about her. Just eat. Who knows why she’s always in such a bad mood?"

I inhaled sharply, unable to hold back my tears. My voice trembled as I choked out, "There’s no rice left. That’s why I didn’t bring any out. Stop blaming everything on my supposed bad temper!"

My voice was sharper than intended. It was breaking from the strain of my emotions.

Startled, Miranda shrank into Charlie’s arms. He shot me a cold glare and snapped, “Enough! You’re scaring her!"

Then he added, "Rose Jennings, you’re twenty-eight years old and a teacher. How can you be so emotionally unstable?"

After soothing the frightened girl in his arms, he got up and went to the kitchen. When he came back, he placed a bowl of rice on the table. However, it was just the brunt scraps that he scraped from the bottom of the rice cooker.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face as he muttered, "Uh, it’s not much, but it’ll do for now. I must’ve cooked too little."

I forced a bitter smile, too drained to argue.

There was no point mentioning the rice, there was also the fact that all the dishes on the table were too spicy for me to eat.

"It’s fine. You two enjoy your meal," I said, then turned around to leave.

Before I could go, Charlie grabbed my arm, his brows furrowed with irritation.

"What are you making a fuss about now? There’s half a bowl of rice right there!"

I laughed bitterly, my voice trembling as I pointed to the dishes on the table.