I had just closed my eyes when there was a soft knock at the door.

Before I could answer, it opened.

Irene stepped inside.

She wore a loose cream-colored dress, her long hair falling gently over her shoulders. One hand rested on her abdomen, protective, almost reverent. When she saw me sitting on the bed, she smiled—soft, careful, and unbearably smug.

"Eleanor," she said quietly, "you didn't come to the party earlier. Adam was worried."

I didn't respond.

She walked closer, stopping a few steps away. "It's your anniversary but we're the one celebrating," she added gently.

I finally looked up at her. "Then enjoy it."

Her smile didn't fade. Instead, she lowered her voice. "I know this must be hard for you. After all... you've tried for so many years."

My fingers curled into the bedsheet.

"But don't worry," Irene continued, her tone almost kind. "Once the baby is born, Aunt Hillary will finally be satisfied. You won't have to suffer anymore."

I let out a short laugh. "Is that supposed to comfort me?"

She hesitated, then took another step closer. "Adam is very happy," she said softly. "I've never seen him like this before."

Something inside me snapped.

"And that makes you feel proud?" I asked. "Carrying a child that was never meant to be yours?"

Her eyes flickered.

"Maybe," she said slowly, "if you weren't so... incapable, things wouldn't have come to this."

The sound echoed sharply through the room.

I slapped her.

Irene stumbled back, eyes wide in shock, her hand flying to her cheek. For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then the door flew open.

"Eleanor!"

Adam rushed in, his gaze immediately locking onto Irene. She turned toward him instantly, tears spilling as she covered her face.

"I—I just wanted to check on her," Irene sobbed. "I didn't mean to upset her..."

Adam was already beside her, his hand cupping her shoulder. His eyes burned as they turned to me.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded. "Do you know what you've done?"

"Ask her what she said," I replied, my voice trembling despite myself.

"I don't need to," he said coldly. "You're emotional. I told you to stop overthinking things."

Overthinking...

I stared at him, my chest tightening. "She insulted me."

"And you hit her?" His tone sharpened. "She's pregnant, Eleanor. With my child."

The words hurt more than the slap ever could.

"I'm sorry," Irene whispered, clinging to his arm. "Maybe I shouldn't have come..."

"That's not your fault," Adam said immediately. His voice softened in a way I hadn't heard in a long time. "Go back to your room. I'll come check on you later."

He led her out without another glance at me.

The door closed.

I stood there alone, my hands shaking, my ears ringing with the echo of his words.

With my child.

I sank onto the bed slowly.

That night, everything became clear.

I had once pretended to be an orphan to escape an arranged marriage.

In the end, I lost my husband... and walked straight back into the fate I had tried so desperately to run from.

...

The house was unusually quiet the next morning.

Sunlight slipped through the curtains, pale and cold. I had been awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to my own breathing.

Downstairs, there were voices.

When I went down, Irene was already seated at the dining table. A porcelain bowl sat in front of her, steam rising gently. Adam stood beside her, his hand resting on the back of her chair.

"Does it still feel uncomfortable?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "It's better today."

"Good," he said at once. "If you feel even a little unwell, we'll call the doctor."

I stopped at the stairs.

For a moment, I felt like a guest intruding on someone else's home.

I walked over and poured myself a glass of water. Neither of them spoke to me. Irene glanced up briefly, then lowered her eyes again, as if embarrassed.

The doorbell rang not long after.

Hillary, Adam's mother, arrived exactly on time.

Aunt Hillary swept in with her usual air of authority, followed by two assistants carrying large boxes. Her gaze went straight to Irene's stomach, her face lighting up instantly.

"Careful, careful," she said, guiding Irene to the sofa. "You shouldn't be standing too long."

Then she clapped her hands lightly. "Bring everything in."

The assistants opened the boxes one by one.

Baby clothes. Tiny shoes. Soft blankets. A carved wooden cradle, delicate and expensive. Even a silver rattle engraved with the Reynolds family name.

Aunt Hillary touched each item lovingly. "I had these custom-made," she said, pleased. "We can't be careless with Reynolds' heir."

Only then did she turn to look at me.

Her expression cooled.

"Eleanor," she said, her tone restrained. "I heard you upset Irene last night."

I lowered my head. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," she replied flatly. "You couldn't give birth yourself, but at least don't cause trouble now. Once the child is born, everything will be settled. Until then, know your place."

"Yes," I answered.

She nodded, satisfied, and turned back to Irene. "You just focus on resting. Don't worry about anything else."

I stood there quietly, surrounded by baby things that were never meant for me.

Letting out a sigh, I returned to our bedroom and opened the wardrobe.

Everything inside suddenly felt foreign.

I packed slowly. Just essentials. No jewelry. No memories.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed.

It was my mother.

"Your father has chosen someone," she said. "The wedding will be arranged as soon as you return."

I hesitated only a second. "Alright."

"Eleanor," she added gently, "are you sure you're okay?"

I looked around the room I had once called home. At the bed where I had cried quietly so many nights.

"I'm fine," I said.

When the call ended, the door opened behind me.

Adam stood there, his gaze falling on the suitcase by my feet.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm sorting things," I replied calmly.

"For what?"

I zipped the suitcase shut and finally looked at him. "For myself."

He frowned, irritation flickering. "Don't be dramatic. Stay out of Irene's way and everything will calm down."

I smiled faintly.

"Adam," I said, "if one day I'm gone, would you even notice?"

He stiffened. "What nonsense are you talking about?"

I didn't answer.

—

That afternoon, I opened the bottom drawer of the wardrobe and pulled out an old box. Inside were photographs—years of them. Adam and me at the beginning, smiling without restraint. Our wedding. Our first home. Holidays. Birthdays. Moments I had once believed were forever.

I sat on the floor and flipped through them slowly.

In every picture, I was smiling.

I wondered when that smile had started to fade.

As evening fell, I carried the box to the fireplace. I lit the fire and placed the first photo into the flames.

The edges curled quickly, the image darkening, faces disappearing.

One by one, I fed them into the fire.

Memories turned to ash.

I had just dropped the last photo in when footsteps sounded behind me.

"What are you doing?"

Adam stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the fire.

"Those are our photos," he said, his voice tightening. "Why are you burning them?"

I stood up calmly. "They're old."

He rushed forward and reached into the fire, pulling one out too late. The corner had already burned away.

"Are you out of your mind?" he snapped. "Do you know how long we've kept these?"

I looked at him quietly. "Do you?"

He stiffened.

For a moment, confusion flickered across his face, followed by irritation. "You're overreacting again."

I said nothing.

Upstairs, Irene's voice suddenly rang out, trembling. "Adam... the lights went out in my room. I'm scared."

His expression changed instantly.

"I'll be right there," he said, already turning away.

He didn't look back.

The fire crackled softly behind me.

I watched the last of the photos collapse into ash and felt something inside me finally go still.

The next morning, Irene stood at the door with a smile that looked almost shy.

In her hands was a crystal award—my award. The one Adam's assistant had delivered earlier that day, congratulating me for a project I had single-handedly salvaged for the company.

"Aunt Hillary asked me to bring this to you," Irene said softly. "She said it should be placed somewhere safe."

I stared at the crystal.

"It's mine," I said.

She nodded quickly. "Of course. I just thought... since it's so valuable, maybe I could keep it with me for now? Just for a few days. I'll return it, I promise."

I didn't answer.

She took a step closer. "You don't mind, right? After all, once the baby is born, everything in this house will belong to the child anyway."

My fingers tightened.

"Give it to me," I said.

Her grip faltered—but she didn't let go.

"I'm only trying to help," she whispered, her eyes reddening. "Why are you always so hostile?"

As we pulled back and forth, the crystal slipped.

It shattered against the marble floor.

The sound was sharp and final.

Irene cried out softly and stumbled backward. A shard grazed her calf, drawing a thin line of blood.

At the same time, a jagged piece cut deep into my leg.

Pain exploded through me.

I sucked in a breath, my vision blurring instantly as warmth spread down my calf. I knew that feeling too well.

Blood wouldn't stop.

The door burst open.

"Adam!" Irene cried, collapsing into his arms. "I didn't mean to... I just wanted to return her award..."

Adam's gaze swept over Irene's leg, then snapped to mine.

Blood was already pooling at my feet.

But he didn't look for long.

"Are you hurt?" he asked Irene urgently.

"I—I think so," she whispered, trembling. "I'm scared..."

That was when he turned to me, fury blazing in his eyes.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded. "You know she's pregnant! Why do you keep provoking her?"

I opened my mouth. "She—"

Before I could finish, his hand came down.

The slap landed hard.

My head snapped to the side.

For a moment, I couldn't hear anything.

It was the first time he had ever hit me.

"Get out of my sight," he said coldly. "If anything happens to my child, I'll never forgive you."

I swayed, barely able to stand.

Blood soaked through my dress, dripping onto the floor, each drop heavier than the last. My hemophilia had always been well controlled—but stress, injury, shock... my body was spiraling.

"I'm bleeding," I whispered.

He didn't look.

He had already lifted Irene into his arms.

"Call the doctor," he barked at the staff. "Now."

They rushed past me as if I weren't there.

I stood alone in the room, my leg numb, my hands shaking as I pressed down desperately, trying to stop the bleeding.

It didn't work.

By the time I sank onto the floor, dizzy and cold, the crystal shards were stained dark red.

No one came back.

That night, lying alone in the hospital bed, IV lines in my arm, I finally accepted the truth I had been avoiding.

—

When I woke up, I was already at the hospital.

The pain in my leg had dulled into a deep, constant throb. The nurse had warned me not to move too much, but lying still made my thoughts louder. I reached for my phone and dialed the only number I still remembered by heart.

"Mom," I said softly.

She answered immediately. "Eleanor? How are you?"

"I'm at the hospital," I replied weakly. "There was an accident. I'll be discharged in a day or two."

Her breath caught. "What?! Are you okay? Do you want us to come?"

"Relax, I'm fine," I said. "Pick me up when I'm cleared to leave."

She paused, then asked carefully, "Then... do you want me to cancel the wedding?"

I closed my eyes. "Proceed with the wedding as planned."

There was no hesitation this time. "Alright. Your father will handle everything. Just come home."

"I will," I said.

Suddenly, the door creaked open.

I stiffened.

Adam stood there, frozen just inside the doorway. His gaze was fixed on me, sharp and unreadable.

"What wedding?" he asked slowly.