When Marianne saw her ultrasound report, she jumped up and down in the hospital hallway. She spent the rest of the day clearing out entire shelves from one maternity store to another.

The day also marked her and Kennedy's 10th wedding anniversary. She called him, saying, "Hey, can you come home early tonight? I have something really exciting to tell you!"

For once, Kennedy sounded thoughtful. "How do you make comfort soup that doesn't taste bitter? I've been trying to figure it out."

Marianne quickly sent him a list of her best recipes, feeling hopeful. Maybe he was planning a sweet surprise for their anniversary—or maybe even for the baby!

But the hours dragged by, and midnight came without him.

Instead of hearing the door open, her phone buzzed. It was a notification from Instagram—a post from Suzanne's account.

[Uncle Ken's comfort soup, y'all! Mmm, so sweet! Not bitter at all! I swear my cramps are completely gone!]

The post showed a rare photo of Kennedy in the kitchen, sweat dripping from his forehead as he stirred a pot of soup.

Sweet? Marianne had never been given that kind of sweetness.

Bitter? Suzanne had never had to swallow the bitterness Marianne endured every day.

As she thought about everything she'd endured over the years, Marianne couldn't stop shaking. Sitting on the couch, tears ran down her face, cutting like knives.

For years, Suzanne had always clung to Kennedy, calling him "Uncle Ken" in the sweetest voice. Whenever Marianne tried to get time alone with him, Suzanne would conveniently fall "sick," cut her wrists, or even threaten to jump off a building.

"You can't have kids, Uncle Ken," Suzanne had once told him. "If you do, you won't have enough love left for me."

And Kennedy had listened—he'd pull further and further away from Marianne, growing colder with each passing year.

But with Suzanne? He was constantly warm and attentive. She'd get a scratch, and he'd fly home from another country to check on her. He skipped milestone moments in his life with Marriane just to attend Suzanne's debut.

It was clear: Marianne would never win against Suzanne and would never be enough for Kennedy.

But now? Marianne didn't want to keep him for herself anymore.

She didn't want anything to do with him.

"If your stomach hurts, take some meds," Kennedy said flatly. "Don't be dramatic. You're not a kid."

His face was cold as he handed her a box of painkillers. "Three times a day, one pill each time. But since your stomach's weak, take half a pill."

Marianne could tell from the peeling labels and half-empty packs—they were Suzanne's leftovers.

"Got it," Marianne said, her voice resigned. She didn't have the energy to argue anymore.

Not now, not ever again.

Kennedy must've realized he'd been too harsh. Or maybe the tears on her face made him feel guilty. His tone shifted slightly as he added, "Here, I got you something."

He pulled out a large box, wrapped in purple—the color she'd always loved.

It had been years since he'd made any effort like this.

Marianne wiped her nose and carefully unwrapped the box.

But the first thing she saw was the label: Anti-Aging Kit.

"Suzie helped me pick it out," Kennedy said proudly. "She thought it was perfect for you. Do you like it?"

'Anti-aging? I'm only 29. How old did Suzanne think I am?' Marianne thought bitterly.

Clearly, this wasn't just a gift—it was Suzanne's latest insult.

Every time the three of them attended a party, Suzanne would cling to Kennedy's arm, calling him "Uncle Ken" in the sweetest tone.

But when she addressed Marianne, her voice would rise, making sure everyone could hear loud and clear: "Aunt Marianne!"

Marianne was only 10 years older than her. Calling her "Marianne" or even "Miss Marianne" would've worked just fine.

But no—Suzanne always emphasized "Aunt," highlighting their age gap, rubbing it in like a little jab to remind Marianne how much younger and more desirable Suzanne seemed in comparison. It used to make Marianne's skin crawl.

The anti-aging "gift" might've snapped Marianne or might've made her explode into a scene. But now? She just didn't care anymore.

[Uncle Ken! Does Aunt Marianne like the gift I picked? [smiling face with smiling eyes emoji] [star-struck emoji]]

A message popped up on Kennedy's phone.

Marianne glanced at it and caught a glimpse of his reply: [Oh, she loves it! Suzie, you did a great job picking that gift!]

She couldn't help but notice how this usually cold and distant man now had a phone full of cute cat emojis.

With a blank expression on her face, she shut the phone and tossed the gift box aside. No yelling, no crying—just a suffocating silence.

For once, Kennedy was caught off guard. Something about Marianne seemed… different.

"Now that I gave you the gift, I should get back—Suzie needs me. She can't handle things on her own."

He said it like he was testing her, waiting for a reaction.

But Marianne's voice came out calm. "Kennedy, let's break up."

Her expression was unreadable. Her words sounded like she'd practiced them a hundred times.

Kennedy blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm serious," Marriane replied. "Let's end this, Kennedy."

Her eyes, usually soft and timid, now gleamed with an unfamiliar resolve.

"You're breaking up with me because I stayed with Suzie when she wasn't feeling well? Is that it?" His face turned red as he grabbed her wrist tightly. "Don't forget—without me, how will you even survive? I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Don't bring it up again."

She didn't understand. 'Isn't this what he wanted? Shouldn't he be relieved I'm the one walking away?'

Before she could say anything, Kennedy's phone buzzed again. This time, a series of texts lit up the screen.

[Uncle Ken, you don't need to come take care of me. I'll be fine.]

[By the way, how do I turn off the gas stove? Uncle Ken, the house smells weird…]

The text made his face pale. Letting go of Marianne's wrist, he grabbed his keys and bolted for the door.

The sudden movement knocked Marianne off balance, and she stumbled, her hand brushing against the gift box she'd prepared. The lid fell open, revealing a tiny pink bunny-themed baby outfit.

Kennedy paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder. "What's that?"

A flicker of panic crossed Marianne's face, but she quickly smirked and said sarcastically, "What else? A bunny costume. Why don't you let your darling Suzie wait, and we can have some fun instead?"

Kennedy scowled. "Suzie might be in danger, and this is what you're thinking about? Marianne, do you even have a heart?"

With that, he slammed the door behind him. The loud bang made Marianne's stomach churn.

"Yeah, I guess I don't have a heart anymore," she muttered to herself. "It's been broken beyond repair long ago."

Slowly, she stood up, gathered the baby clothes, and called an orphanage to come pick up a donation.

If Kennedy had stopped—just for a second—he would've seen what those clothes meant. But he couldn't even spare her a moment.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. A message from Dr. Obrien.

[Marianne, based on your health, it's best to schedule the procedure around the 50th day of your pregnancy.]

Marianne still had to wait 20 more days. That thought made her restless.

Her plan had been simple: break up, get the procedure, and leave Kennedy's place.

But now she had to hide her pregnancy, find work quickly, and build up enough money to escape the Brydens for good.

At the same time, the doctor was texting Kennedy.

[Kennedy, I've been stalling as much as I can. Do something before it's too late. Take care of Marianne and fix this.]

Confused, Kennedy frowned at the message. 'Stalling for what?' he wondered.

But he was so busy that he could only glance at the text and turn his phone off.

He was on set, helping Suzanne prepare for her audition.

Out of respect for the famous actor, the director had agreed to let the young girl play a small supporting role.

"Uncle Ken," she whispered. "I'm so nervous my stomach's acting up. Did you bring the meds?"

Kennedy froze. The painkillers—he'd left them with Marianne the night before.

For a brief moment, her face flashed in his mind, and he felt something heavy settle in his chest.

Marianne used to be religious about texting Kennedy reminders—what to wear, how the weather was, what to eat. But today, she didn't send him a single text.

Normally, a quick errand would've been no big deal. Yet Kennedy insisted on dragging Marianne into it.

[Marianne, Suzie's stomach hurts. Bring over that box of meds from last night ASAP.]

He sent the message, but all he got back was a little red exclamation mark.

'Fuck… Did she block me?' Kennedy wondered, his brows pulling together, his face darkening.

'Damn it,' he cursed internally, realizing Marianne did block him. 'When it really came to Suzie, that woman always blew things out of proportion. Completely unreasonable!'

But he knew Marianne—she'd come crawling back soon enough, picking up right where she left off as his walking weather report.

Marianne had a makeup test scheduled with Director Angus, so she'd arrived at the set early. It had been years since she'd worked, and she wasn't exactly A-list anymore. Making people wait on her wasn't an option.

Unfortunately, Kennedy's crew was filming right next door.

"Scene one, take 36. Action!"

Kennedy was playing the male lead, rejecting the supporting actress's confession of love. The scene required her to steal a kiss from him.

It should've been easy—just a quick peck, like a bird snatching a crumb. But Suzanne managed to mess it up 35 times, her lips pressing against his over and over.

"Uncle Ken, I don't know how to kiss. I'm so nervous…"

"Uncle Ken, I still don't know…"

The crew was losing patience, but with Kennedy on set, no one dared to speak up.

"It's okay, Suzie. Let's try again," Kennedy said calmly, ruffling her hair.

When he glanced up—he saw Marianne walking toward him.

'Hah. I knew it,' Kennedy thought to himself. 'She came before I could coax her.'

"Aunt Marianne!" Suzanne called out with a bright smile. "Are you here to visit Uncle Ken? He's teaching me how to act!"

Marianne cursed under her breath but stayed where she was, arms crossed. Suzanne's acting was terrible, and Marianne watched the young girl make a fool of herself

"Uncle Ken, Aunt Marianne doesn't like me hanging around you. Maybe we should skip this scene?" Suzanne suggested.

Kennedy disagreed. "Why should her opinion matter?"

As if to spite Marianne for daring to break up with him, Kennedy suddenly pulled Suzanne into his arms. Their lips met in a heated kiss as they entwined with each other.

"Cut! Perfect!" the director called.

Finally, the scene was done.

Marianne stood frozen, her nails biting into her palms.

The stress must've hit her baby because nausea came rushing in like a tidal wave. She clutched her belly, hand over her mouth, barely holding herself together.

Kennedy pushed Suzanne aside and looked Marianne's way.

Marianne forced herself upright and made her voice sound loud. "God, it's the middle of the day, and some people are already making me want to puke."

Of course, she still couldn't stand Suzanne.

Kennedy let out a long breath, but when he looked again, Suzanne was no longer beside him.

After seeing how seriously he kissed Suzanne, why did Marianne bother them?

Marianne found an empty corner to sit, wiping her mouth clean as her stomach settled.

"Aunt Marianne, I'm sorry! Kissing Uncle Ken is just part of the job," Suzanne chirped as she walked over.

Her tone was sweet, but the smug look on her face gave her away.

"Good for you. Hope it pays off big," Marianne shot back, her face unreadable.

"Then why are you sitting here all alone? Not feeling well?" Suzanne smirked. "Or are you just jealous?"

But Marianne wasn't in the mood to play nice. "If you've got time to worry about me, maybe focus on improving your acting instead. At least then the crew won't look ready to quit."

Suzanne blinked in disbelief. 'Since when did this quiet little mouse grow her claws?'

Then, she fired back, "No matter how bad my acting is, Uncle Ken will always back me up. What about you? What do you even have?"