The night breeze was cool. I stood on the balcony, staring blankly into the distance.

Behind me came Leandro’s familiar footsteps, and a jacket was gently draped over my shoulders.

“Alina, your health has never been good. Don’t catch a chill, I’ll feel distressed.”

I didn’t turn around, only sneered. “Mr. Rousseau, you really are busy. After sending your mistress home, you suddenly remembered to care for your ex-wife?”

Leandro sighed, his chest pressing against my back, the same posture as the countless embraces we had shared over the past ten years.

“My mom really went too far today. I apologize on her behalf.”

“Alina, but you have to understand me. Do you know how hard it is for me?”

“Every time I see others showing off their children, every time I hear my mom crying on the phone, Alina, I just couldn’t help it. If there were even the slightest chance, I would never have…”

“Never what? Never cheat? Never divorce?” I finally turned, meeting his reddened eyes.

“So all the fault for not having a child lies with me? Leandro, can’t you stop making excuses for yourself?”

A flicker of embarrassment crossed his eyes, yet he still struggled to make me believe him.

“Alina, I’m not making excuses. The one I truly love is you. I really can’t let you go.”

My gaze dropped to his left hand, and his wedding ring was already gone. And now he wanted me to believe that a man who cheated had his reasons? The thought was laughable.

“This house,” Leandro suddenly shifted the subject, “has a really good school district. Kieran is about to start elementary school.”

“I want to exchange this house for the seaside villa I bought for you before. I can pay you the difference.”

Of course. The mask had slipped at last; his late-night performance of tenderness was nothing but a ploy for the school district house.

I tore off the jacket and flung it back at him. "So this was your true purpose all along?"

His face stiffened. "I’m thinking of you! That seaside villa will rise in value."

"Leandro." My voice cut through his words, faint and fragile, like a whisper swept away by the night breeze.

"Do you still remember the day we went through the third round of IVF?"

His eyes darkened, pupils shrinking.

"The doctor warned that my body had already suffered too much, that another attempt might cause heavy bleeding."

I slowly lifted my shirt, revealing the scar etched across my stomach.

"Back then, I put my life on the line to try again. Do you remember what you said, kneeling at my hospital bed? You said that just having me in this life was enough."

"And now?"

The color drained from Leandro’s face.

"That’s enough, Leandro. Get out."

I pressed the speed dial on my phone. "Security will be here in three minutes."

"Alina." He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his voice desperate. "We’ve been married ten years. You have to think about my descendants too, I beg you."

"Seven years." I peeled his fingers away, one by one. "The rest of the time, you were in Azalea’s bed."

"Alina!" he gritted his teeth. "Don’t you regret this!"

I sneered and locked the balcony door right in front of him.

He stood outside, his face twisted with rage as he shouted at me, then finally kicked the door hard before storming away.

The next morning, I left for my studio as usual. But just as I reached the entrance, my vision went black.

"Alina?!" The last thing I saw was Nikolai’s anxious figure rushing toward me.

When I woke again, the sharp scent of disinfectant filled my nose, the same smell that had haunted me through countless rounds of IVF.

Nikolai stood at my bedside, his gaze heavy with concern. "Alina, you’re pregnant, about six weeks."

The words froze me in place. My hand instinctively went to my stomach.

Ten years of marriage. Three failed IVF attempts. And now, in the middle of the divorce cooling-off period, I was pregnant?

How ironic this world could be.

"However, your condition isn’t ideal." Dr. Landers stood beside him, flipping through the test results, his brows furrowed. "The endometrium is too thin, and your HCG and progesterone levels are low; this doesn’t look good."

"Abort it." I cut him off, pushing myself upright despite the sting of the IV needle tugging at my wrist.

"And destroy all the frozen embryos in the hospital, mine and Leandro’s."

When Nikolai heard my decision, he said nothing. He only tightened his grip around my hand in silence.

Just before I entered the operating room, my phone vibrated, a message from Leandro.

[Alina, for the sake of our ten years of marriage, let’s talk again.]

I stared at the screen, let out a cold sneer, and powered it off.

Ridiculous. What was there left to talk about?

The procedure ended quickly. My body, already drained of strength, leaned heavily against Nikolai’s arm as he supported my waist.

"Take it slow, no need to rush," he whispered.

A faint ache pulsed in my lower abdomen, a cruel reminder of what had been taken away.

And then, a voice I could never mistake cut through the air.

"Don’t be afraid, Daddy’s got you!"

My body stiffened. Slowly, I looked up and there was Leandro, bending to scoop Kieran into his arms. The child’s small face was flushed, his head weakly resting against his shoulder.

Azalea stood at his side, a registration slip in one hand, her other arm resting naturally in the crook of Leandro’s elbow, the picture of a devoted wife.

Leandro lifted his head, and his gaze collided with mine.

For an instant, his expression faltered. His eyes swept over my pale face, slid to Nikolai’s steady hand supporting me, and finally dropped to the discharge slip I held.

"Alina?" His voice carried hesitation, his brows knitting together. "Why are you here at the hospital? Are you unwell?"

Azalea’s wary eyes darted over me at once, her fingers tightening on Leandro’s sleeve.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach, empty now. The life once inside me was gone. What meaning was there in his concern?

"It’s nothing, just a routine checkup. You two came to the hospital for…?"

“Keiran had a fever and wasn’t feeling well, so we brought him in.” Leandro’s eyes stayed fixed on my face, probing with quiet concern. “Alina, are you sure you’re alright? You look terribly pale.”

Nikolai’s voice came at the perfect time, firm and protective. “It’s just a little anemia, nothing to worry about.”

Leandro seemed ready to say more, but Azalea tugged at his sleeve. “Leandro, it’s our turn now.”

After a brief pause, he gave a reluctant nod. His gaze swept over me one last time before he turned away.

“Then… take care of yourself, and rest well.”

I stood still, watching their family of three fade into the distance.

What a cruel irony.

Leandro had given all his love to a child who was, in all likelihood, not his by blood. And he would never realize that he had just lost the only child who truly was his.

With a pained sigh, Nikolai wrapped his arm around me. “It’s over now, Alina. Let me take you home.”

Resting against his shoulder, I closed my eyes and allowed him to lead me slowly from the hospital.

Behind us, the mechanical voice of the broadcast called out patient numbers, and at last, my tears flowed soundlessly.

On the third day after the surgery, a faint scent of medicine still lingered in Nikolai’s apartment.

“How are you feeling today?” Nikolai came over with freshly cooked vegetable soup, his hand gently brushing the top of my head, his face filled with tender concern.

“Much better.” I took the bowl, my fingertips accidentally brushing against the back of his hand. The warmth of that touch slipped away too quickly.

Nikolai paused, his gaze fixed on me. For a moment, it seemed he wanted to say something soothing, yet he only let out a soft sigh.

“Tonight is my father’s sixtieth birthday banquet. He really wants to see you. Will you come with me?”

“Alright.” I met his hopeful eyes glowing beneath the sunlight and smiled as I gave my answer.

I really couldn’t bring myself to refuse this version of Nikolai.

By evening, he had changed into a black, custom-made suit. At his cuffs gleamed the sapphire cufflinks I had once given him; he seemed especially fond of them, wearing them almost every time he dressed in a suit.

“Let’s go.” He reached out and steadied my wrist, the warmth of his fingertips seeping through the sleeve, steady and reassuring.

Just as we opened the door, a figure rushed out from the shadows of the hallway.

“Alina!”

Leandro stood at the doorway, his suit disheveled, eyes bloodshot, as though sleep had abandoned him for days.

His gaze locked onto Nikolai’s hand holding mine, his face dark with fury.

“So it’s true!” he spat. “We’re not even divorced yet, and you’re already in another man’s house?”

I didn’t bother with a reply and lifted my foot to walk past him, but his hand clamped hard around my wrist, the pain slicing sharply.

“Let go,” I said, my voice cold.

“Come home with me! Do you even know what people are saying outside?! You’ve completely disgraced the family!”

Nikolai stepped forward, his hand clamping down on Leandro’s wrist with such force it almost sounded like bones creaking under pressure.

“Leandro.” His voice was cold as ice. “If you touch Alina again, I won’t hesitate to cripple this hand of yours.”

Leandro’s face drained of color. He wrenched himself free, his voice breaking into a furious roar.

“Alina, don’t forget—the divorce certificate isn’t in your hands yet. You’re still my wife!”

I looked at his twisted expression and let out a weary sigh.

“Leandro, you look truly pathetic like this.”

With that, I turned toward the elevator. Nikolai followed close behind, his tall frame standing like a silent shield between me and Leandro.

As the elevator doors closed, I still felt the burning weight of Leandro’s eyes drilling into me.

But what did that matter to me? Why should he, the one who chose divorce, now act as though love consumed him?

By the time the banquet ended, night had already deepened.

As Nikolai went to get the car, a voice I knew all too well sounded behind me, freezing me in place.

“Alina, let me take you back to the villa.”

Leandro stood at the steps, his tone calm, tinged with a quiet plea. “Enough of this nonsense, alright?”

I noticed the curious glances of nearby guests. Since this was Uncle Winston’s birthday banquet, I had no desire to cause a scene.

“Let’s go,” I replied flatly.

Leandro’s eyes lit up at once. He rushed forward, reaching as though to steady me, but I avoided his hand and walked directly to his car.

He hurried to open the door, his voice ingratiating. “Alina, let’s talk properly.”

The nightscape outside the window blurred past. I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes in fatigue.

“Leandro, what is it you want to say?”