I got up from the cold floor, feeling no warmth or pain. I was momentarily disoriented. It wasn't until I saw my own body curled up there that I knew I was dead.

Scenes from the previous day still played vividly in my mind. I'd gotten home late from the hospital, to find Sierra Rice, who was temporarily staying at my place, shivering downstairs for two hours. I hurried to get medicine and made her some hot apple cider, but she coldly knocked it over.

"I don't want your fake kindness. You probably can't wait for me to leave."

I tried explaining that I hadn't heard her call while I was at the hospital, but she just sneered and pushed me.

"How do I know you didn't do it on purpose?"

By the time Alan Jenkins got back, she was sprawled on the couch, burning up with a fever, looking miserable.

"Alan... I feel so awful..."

She whimpered, her body limp as she leaned into his arms. She looked at me with fear and avoidance in her eyes. "Maybe you should just drop me off at a nearby inn and let me fend for myself."

"Sweetheart..." I rushed forward to explain, eager and hopeful to share the news with him.

But Alan suddenly stood up, kicking me hard in the chest. I fell to the ground, shocked and trembling, as he vented his anger on me, ripping at my clothes.

"Sweetheart, listen..."

"What's there to say? How can you be so cruel?"

"Do you have any idea how cold it was today? Sierra is delicate, and this is how you treat her?"

My clothes were torn to shreds, leaving me in just thin underwear. He grabbed my hair and dragged me out forcefully. "You can't stand to see her well, so now you’ll know what it feels like to freeze."

He ignored the blood from my scraped body as he dragged me across the floor. My screams were only met with his furious slaps. "You dare to scream?"

He dragged me all the way to the basement, where I clung desperately to the door frame, pleading with him. "Sweetheart, I'm pregnant. We have a baby..."

I was overwhelmed, my grievances stuck in my throat like a stone. Sierra followed closely behind, coughing violently once more.

"Alan, let's just forget it. This will only make Elowyn hate me more," she said weakly.

Alan's brief moment of softness vanished instantly as his face darkened. He pried my fingers loose and kicked me down the steps. Sierra still held onto my handbag, probably thinking Alan was about to kick me out. She threw the bag inside, "Elowyn, I don't blame you. Even if you deliberately spilled hot cider on me, I wouldn't resent you."

Alan slammed the door shut, locked it, and even wrapped it with chains.

"Sweetheart! Alan, you can't do this to me! I'm pregnant, let me out!" I screamed desperately, but only his cold laughter responded.

"Still lying? Elowyn, I never knew you could be like this."

"Think about it in there. When you realize your mistake, then call me your husband."

The sound of footsteps faded away, and he never noticed the unusual chill in the basement, where a thin layer of frost had begun to creep up the walls. My body shook with cold as I screamed desperately, clawing at the door, desperately trying to break the only window. But it was all pointless.

We had turned this basement into a wine cellar when we were newlyweds, back when I was still a sommelier. Alan would bring me a bottle of wine after each conference as a token of our love. In order to preserve these memories, he enthusiastically transformed this space into a wine cellar. But it had been ages since he last came here and didn't realize the equipment had malfunctioned.

My fingernails were torn, and bloody smears marked the door and walls. But there was no sign of anyone coming to my aid. I couldn't protect my baby, only rubbing my cold hands together helplessly before shielding my belly. Slowly, my consciousness started to fade, my movements growing sluggish until I could no longer move a finger.

I died.

As my soul slipped away, even my tears were invisible. I cast one final look at my twisted body in the corner before leaving the basement behind. All I wanted to know was, where was Alan?

Then I saw him in a hospital room. He was asleep, his hand tightly intertwined with Sierra’s as he leaned over the bed. Over the next few days, he cared for Sierra tirelessly, who had long since recovered from her fever.

When the nurse suggested Sierra's discharge, Bennett Lynch, a mutual friend, stopped by the room. Alan was busy feeding Sierra oatmeal, unaware of Bennett's concerned expression.

"Alan, did Elowyn tell you?" Bennett asked.

"What?" Alan said.

After that day’s check-up, I had asked Bennett to keep my pregnancy a secret, wanting to surprise Alan later. Seeing Alan’s puzzled look, Bennett probably guessed I hadn’t told him yet, so he brushed it aside. "Nothing. Let Elowyn tell you herself."

Bennett turned away but couldn't resist advising him, "You're on leave, right? You should spend some time with Elowyn."

Alan didn’t even look up. "I took leave to take care of her. Elowyn’s fine. She's eating and sleeping well."

Bennett shook his head and left.

I lingered beside Alan, watching his careful attention as he fed Sierra. The hands I once adored now bore burns, likely from preparing the oatmeal. Bitterness surged within me; Alan, who never set foot in the kitchen, could cook for someone else.

Sierra glanced at him. "Alan, have you ever cooked for Elowyn?"

Alan froze. "No."

Sierra’s face lit up with delight before she took another spoonful. "I'm worried I'd make something she wouldn’t like. She’s very particular; the wrong food makes her stomach recoil, and it’s quite uncomfortable."

Sierra started coughing, her expression suddenly icy.

After tidying up, Alan checked his phone for the time, looking tense and lost in thought.

The doctor who examined me walked by, greeting Alan with a smile. "Congrats, Dr. Jenkins!"

"For what?" Alan asked.

"Well, for becoming a father soon. Elowyn hasn’t mentioned it?"

The lunch container slipped from Alan's hand, crashing to the floor.