At six months pregnant, a sharp pain surged through my stomach during the New Year’s Eve dinner.

I clutched my belly and begged Trent Curran to take me to the hospital. His face darkened, and he snapped coldly, "It’s a big holiday, and you’re causing a scene again?"

"Why didn’t it hurt earlier or later? Why now, right when I’m drinking for Lizzie?"

Lizzie Dawson, his secretary, spoke up in a soft, guilt-ridden tone, "Mr. Curran, don’t be mad. Sister Heather cares so much about you that she can’t stand me."

"It’s my fault for not being more considerate. You all enjoy the meal; I’ll leave first."

Before she could leave, Trent’s friends hurriedly stopped her. Their eyes burned with blame as they turned to me, their silent condemnation suffocating.

Dripping with sweat and clutching my stomach in agony, I looked at Trent through tear-filled eyes and pleaded, “Do you even care about me and the baby?”

Before Trent could respond, Lizzie burst into tears, her voice trembling as she cried, “Mr. Curran, just go along with Sister Heather. She wouldn’t be thinking about aborting the baby, would she?”

Without a flicker of concern for me, Trent gently wiped her tears, his tone soothing as he reassured her, “Heather went through over a dozen failed IVF attempts to conceive. There’s no way she’d abort the baby.”

“She’s just trying to scare you. You’re such a sweet and innocent girl. Don’t cry.”

He pushed me out of the private room as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience and apologized to her.

With tears streaming down my face, I walked out of the restaurant, hailing a cab to the hospital to schedule an abortion.

——

When I told the doctor my decision, her expression froze in shock.

She glanced at my medical records and found the relentless struggle I had endured, multiple failed IVF attempts to conceive this baby.

Given the poor quality of the embryo, I had spent months on strict bed rest, enduring over a thousand heparin injections to sustain the pregnancy.

“Are you certain about this?” she asked, her tone filled with disbelief. “If you terminate now, everything you’ve suffered will have been for nothing.”

I met her gaze and replied calmly, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. “Survival of the fittest. I’m done forcing what isn’t meant to be.”

The doctor nodded, her expression calm as she entered the details into her computer.

“Your condition isn’t ideal. Since you’ve made up your mind, don’t delay. Go home, pack your things, and check into the hospital early tomorrow to complete the paperwork.”

On the way home in the cab, my phone buzzed with a call from Trent. For a fleeting moment, I thought he might finally be showing some concern.

Instead, his voice crackled with irritation, sharp enough to cut through the silence.

“Where the hell are you? Did you fall into a river or get hit by a car?!”

The cab driver cast a quick glance my way, his eyebrows raising in disbelief, clearly stunned by the venom in Trent’s tone toward someone so visibly pregnant.

I forced myself to answer, my voice low and steady. “I just came from the hospital…”

“Alright, drop the drama,” Trent interrupted, his impatience palpable.

“Buy the gift later. Lizzie left her hat at the restaurant. Go fetch it and bring it to us at the Everspring.”

“Hurry up! Lizzie’s ears are sensitive to the cold; she used to get frostbite!”

A bitter laugh escaped me, unbidden and hollow.

He cared only about Lizzie’s forgotten hat, oblivious to the fact that when he had kicked me out of the private room, I’d left my coat and scarf behind.

He remembered Lizzie’s ears couldn’t be exposed to the cold, but he forgot that my hands were numb with frostbite.

And all of that, every bit of it, was thanks to him and Lizzie.

Not long ago, Lizzie’s underwear had been stained with blood, and she had asked me to wash it for her. She insisted that hot water wouldn’t do the job right and demanded I use cold water instead.

When I asked why she couldn’t do it herself, Trent overheard and erupted in fury.

“Lizzie is still on her period, and you expect her to handle cold water?”

“She’s my subordinate, not an ex-girlfriend. Why are you being so cruel to her?”

He punished me by forcing me to hand-wash all of Lizzie’s dirty clothes, leaving my hands frozen, swollen, and frostbitten from the cold.

I had foolishly thought he might feel a twinge of guilt. Instead, he snapped a photo of my swollen hands and sent it to his private group chat with his close friends.

[What’s the point of being pretty before pregnancy? Now, she’s as sloppy as a pig. Even her hands look like pig’s trotters.]

Meanwhile, Trent continued to pressure me over the phone, demanding to know when I would arrive.

Just as I was about to tell him to find someone else, a sweet, syrupy voice called out nearby.

“Mr. Curran! Come over and take the group photo! I saved a spot right next to me!”

His impatience evaporated instantly. He responded softly, “Okay,” before hanging up.

I made my way home alone.

As dawn approached, just as I was drifting off to sleep, a sudden force yanked me from the bed. Trent’s furious voice rang in my ears.

“Lizzie’s ears are red from the cold, and you’re here sleeping soundly all night?”

He yanked me from the bed and threw me onto the cold, unforgiving floor. My stomach collided with the sharp corner of the nightstand, and a muffled cry escaped my lips.

He paused for a moment, his hand halfway to me as if to help, but his words cut through the silence, accusing.

“Can’t you stand properly? What if you hurt the baby?”

I lowered my gaze, trying to soothe the restless baby inside me, refusing to meet his eyes.

He pressed his lips together, his hand hovering over my stomach with obvious reluctance.

“How’s the baby doing lately? Still active?”

I frowned the urge to push him away rising within me. But before I could act, Lizzie barged in, wearing a freshly bought wool hat.

Her eyes quickly flicked over the scene, and her expression darkened slightly. She spoke with a touch of bitterness.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Curran, for interrupting you and Miss Heather. Please, go ahead. I’ll just take a cab by myself.”

Trent rushed to stop her, his voice tinged with concern.

“I’ve told you before, it’s unsafe for a woman to take a cab alone. What if something happens?”

He turned to me, his tone growing more patronizing.

“Alright, stop sulking. Come on, let’s go soak in the hot springs together.”

I couldn’t help but scoff inwardly at the arrogance in his voice.

This New Year’s outing had been planned by Trent and his tight-knit group of childhood friends. Originally, it had been just them, Trent and his pals, until Lizzie, after becoming his assistant, weaseled her way in, quickly becoming part of the group. I, on the other hand, remained a stranger in their circle.

“You go ahead. I have other plans.”

I dismissed him coolly.

Trent hesitated for a moment, surprise flickering in his eyes.

Once they left, I took my time, sitting down to carefully apply a flawless layer of makeup.

Ever since I became pregnant, I had become hyper-vigilant—avoiding makeup, steering clear of raw foods, and researching even the mildest medications whenever I felt under the weather.

Trent had often shared these little anecdotes in his private group chat, mocking me for my “pregnancy brain” with his friends.

I purposely delayed my departure, ensuring I wouldn’t run into Trent downstairs, before grabbing my small suitcase and heading out.

But just as I was about to hail a cab, Trent’s Cayenne pulled up in front of me, halting me in my tracks.

The window rolled down, and Trent’s gaze swept over me, sharp and questioning.

“Where are you going?”

Caught off guard, I quickly lied.

“Hermoine asked me to stay at her place for a day.”

Hermione was a colleague of mine.

Only after the words left my mouth did I remember that I had mentioned days ago that Hermione was abroad on vacation.

Luckily, Trent didn’t seem to recall the conversation. His eyes stayed on me, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise.

“Forget about Hermoine’s place, wife. Come with us to the hot springs.”

Lizzie, noticing how Trent couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from me, frowned, her mood souring instantly.

She suddenly pushed the car door open and pretended to step out.

“Mr. Curran, they got me this beautiful bathrobe for the hot springs. I’ll go try it on while you have a little chat with Miss Heather.”

Trent’s frown deepened, but he reached out and ruffled Lizzie’s hair, helpless.

“Aren’t you grown-up enough for this? Can’t you be a little more mindful?”

“When we get to the hot springs, stay close to me. Don’t wander off or get too close to anyone else.”

With that, he slammed the accelerator down, speeding off with Lizzie.

During my pre-surgery check-up, I stumbled upon a post from Lizzie on her social media.

[Another day of being spoiled by my boss! Thanks to Mr. Curran for the surprise; it really motivates me to work harder!]

The accompanying picture revealed Trent renting out an entire hot spring resort just for her. He had even arranged a “rose waterfall,” with 9,999 frozen roses, to celebrate her first New Year in New Valley.

The comments were flooded with envy and admiration.

One comment, though, caught my eye. [Why are you still calling him Mr. Curran? Shouldn’t it be hubby by now?]

I spotted Lizzie's reply, punctuated by a sheepish emoji.

[I wouldn't dare! If some old hag hears it, she'll make a scene.]

The response came quickly, sharp, and almost gleeful.

[Haha, what right does she have to cause trouble? You might not know this, but she and Trent only had a ceremony and didn't even bother to register their marriage. All it takes is one word from him, and she'll be packing her bags.]

I clicked on the commenter’s profile and recognized him as Larkin Ford, one of Trent's closest friends.

With a sigh, I liked both Lizzie’s and Larkin’s comments.

Moments later, my phone rang.

I picked it up, only to be met with Lizzie's tearful voice.

"Sister Heather, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you'd see my post..."

Before I could respond, Trent's voice replaced hers, cold and impatient.

"Don’t you have anything better to do? Spying on everyone around me, stirring up drama?"

Nearby, Larkin chimed in lazily, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Sis-in-law, I was just kidding. If it bothers you so much, I'll skip the holiday fun and come over to apologize in person."

I cut him off, my voice calm yet firm.

"There’s no need to apologize. You were simply speaking the truth."

In Trent's family, couples only registered their marriage after having a child.

When my parents discovered this, their anger was explosive, and they forbade me from continuing my relationship with Trent.

Not wanting to add more pressure, I kept this secret from my family and complied with Trent’s family's demands.

Trent hosted a small gathering with friends and arranged a simple wedding ceremony for us. In that moment, he spoke with such deep emotion.

"Even though we haven’t registered our marriage, you're the wife I've chosen. This ceremony is non-negotiable."

Tears welled in my eyes, believing I had just married happiness itself.

Little did I know, in the eyes of his friends, I was nothing more than a laughingstock.

After the surgery, I lay on the cold, sterile table, my gaze fixed on the small, lifeless form being placed into a bag, weighed with finality.

From the delivery room next door, the piercing cries of a newborn echoed, a harsh contrast to the silence in my heart.

Without a word, I signed the cremation consent form the doctor had handed me.

I stayed in the hospital for two long days. When I finally returned home, the house greeted me with an emptiness I couldn’t shake.

I unlocked my phone and scrolled through Lizzie’s social media updates.

Over the past two days, she had flooded her feed with photos of herself and Trent visiting various places.

There were pictures of him feeding her candied hawthorn, taking her to a music festival, and even carrying her on his back when she grew tired at Disneyland.

His tenderness, his patience, those same gestures he had once shown me when we first fell in love.

But I didn’t feel anger. I didn’t feel sadness. I only felt… numb.

I packed the baby items I had so carefully bought into a box, ready to burn them as an offering for my child.

Just as I was about to reach the door, it suddenly flew open, slamming into me.

Trent stormed in, fury blazing in his eyes.

“Heather, what have you been doing these past few days?”

The door knocked on me, and the box slipped from my hands.

Tiny onesies, sheets, and baby bowls tumbled to the floor, scattered like broken dreams.

Heartbroken, I knelt down to gather the scattered baby clothes.

Trent’s boot came down hard, crushing the delicate fabric under his heel, his teeth gritted in fury.

“I’m talking to you! Answer me!”

As I stared at the dirt smudging the tiny clothes, my heart felt as if it were being shredded. I hastily tried to wipe the stains away, my hands trembling with desperation.

He sneered his voice cold and cutting.

“Fiddling with these useless things all day. Are you just trying to remind me that you’re still carrying my child?”