The doctor clearly assumed it was a simple marital dispute and quickly tried to defuse the situation. "You two should stop arguing first. Your wife's stomach—"

Eliza sat up abruptly. "Doctor, weren't you going to get my medication?"

He paused, caught the implication, and said nothing further. Without another word, he turned and left.

Alban looked back at her. "The doctor mentioned your stomach. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Eliza replied evenly. "He just meant I was injured there too."

His expression hardened, though his tone remained cold and controlled. "If you hadn't laid hands on Vina, you wouldn't have fallen down the stairs.

"You were at fault first. Go apologize to Vina."

Eliza shook her head. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I apologize? The restaurant has cameras. Watch the footage, and you'll see the truth."

Alban's face darkened. "I don't need to check the cameras. I believe Vina. You will apologize."

After everything that had happened, exhaustion weighed heavily on Eliza. She wanted nothing more than to rest, focus on the baby, and recover. She had no energy left to argue.

After a brief silence, she asked quietly, "If I apologize, will you leave me alone?"

The near-resignation in her voice gave Alban pause. Something about her felt different. Even so, he nodded.

Eliza said nothing more. She rose from the bed and walked straight to Davina's hospital room.

Standing before her, Eliza met her gaze calmly. "I'm sorry."

She turned to Alban. "Is that enough?"

Without waiting for a response, she walked out, leaving Alban standing there with a grim expression.

…

During her hospital stay, Eliza often overheard nurses and doctors praising Alban's gentleness and devotion toward Davina.

Davina's injuries were minor, yet he had arranged for the city's top specialists to attend to her personally. He fed her whatever she wanted to eat. When she needed the restroom, he carried her to the door.

Eliza ignored it all. She focused on one thing only: protecting her pregnancy.

…

On the day of her discharge, Eliza completed her final examinations.

The doctor assured her that the baby was healthy.

She rested a hand on her stomach and asked, "If children are born to identical twin brothers, will they look very similar?"

The question took the doctor by surprise.

After a moment's thought, he replied, "It depends on genetics. If the paternal genes are dominant, it's certainly possible."

Relief loosened the tension in her chest. She thanked him and turned to leave.

At the hospital entrance, she ran into Davina, who was also being discharged. Alban stood beside her.

When Davina saw Eliza, she slipped into her usual innocent demeanor and smiled sweetly. "Ms. Lockett, I won't hold what happened against you. Let's still be friends. To celebrate my discharge, Al arranged a gathering. Come with us."

Before Eliza could refuse, Davina took her arm and led her to the car.

…

By the time they arrived at the private room, several friends from their circle had already gathered.

Throughout the evening, Alban's attention never wavered from Davina. He peeled fruit for her, intercepted drinks meant for her, and draped his jacket over her legs.

Envious glances circled the table.

As for Eliza, the so-called Mrs. Sidham, she did not look at them once the entire night.

Later, someone proposed a game: whoever lost would choose truth, dare, or drink.

Midway through the game, Eliza lost a round.

Earlier, whenever Davina had lost, Alban had taken the drink in her place without hesitation. Eliza knew he would never do the same for her in front of everyone.

She chose truth.

A guest with a flair for drama glanced at Davina, fully aware of the tension between them, and asked with a grin, "Is the person you like here tonight?"

Eliza kept her gaze lowered. She lifted her glass and took a calm sip of juice. "No."

The room fell silent. No one had expected that answer.

Everyone in their circle knew Eliza's reputation. She had chased Alban relentlessly, married him, and catered to his every demand. For her to say that in front of everyone was the same as slapping him across the face.

Alban's expression darkened. He picked up his glass and downed several drinks in quick succession.

In the next rounds of the game, he could not focus. Eliza's words replayed in his mind, and he lost again and again.

His friends, eager to stir things up, suggested they check his photo album and his pinned contact.

The result surprised no one. His album was filled with photos of Davina. Some showed her smiling. Others captured her in quiet moments or in candid shots taken from behind. His pinned contact list held only one name: Davina Buckley.

He was so distracted that he failed to realize he had just made his feelings for her public.

Color crept up Davina's cheeks. She lowered her head and glanced at him shyly. "Al, I didn't realize you felt so strongly about me…"

The rest of the sentence seemed too embarrassing to say. No one pressed her to finish.

When the gathering began to break up, Davina spoke again. "Al, things haven't felt safe around my place lately. The security guards have been checking for days and still haven't figured out what's going on. Could you come stay with me for a few days?"

The group erupted in cheers. Only Eliza remained silent, calmly spearing pieces of fruit on her plate with a fork.

Davina enjoyed performing for her. Eliza did not mind watching.

What no one expected was Alban's response. He had always indulged Davina without hesitation. This time, he refused.

"Vina, I still have some things to handle," he said. "I'll come by later, all right?"

He sent Davina off with the driver, then turned and grabbed Eliza's wrist, pulling her toward the car.

…

The ride home passed in heavy silence.

As soon as they stepped inside, Alban caught the scent in the air. A bitter herbal smell lingered throughout the house.

Eliza had been drinking herbal remedies to stabilize the pregnancy. He usually paid no attention, but now the scent struck him all at once.

He studied her. "What exactly are you taking? You drink it three times a day without fail."

A flicker of guilt rose in Eliza's chest, but she kept her expression steady. "Just something to nourish my body. I'll need it for a while. If the smell bothers you, you could stay at Miss Buckley's place. That way you won't have to smell it, and you can protect her at the same time."

Alban froze. In all their years of marriage, she had worked without complaint and never objected to his feelings for Davina. This was the first time she had pushed him toward her.

He should have felt relieved. Instead, a strange tightness gripped his chest.

Then a thought took shape, and he felt certain he understood. "You're jealous? That answer during the game—was it because you're upset I've been taking care of Vina and ignoring you?"

As he spoke, his body relaxed. "When we got married, I told you clearly. I love someone else. I can give you a title, not love. And after what happened last time, you were at fault. Taking care of her was only right.

"Stop sulking. Didn't you always want the sculpture in my study? I'll give it to you."

Eliza had intended to explain. After hearing that, she changed her mind.

The sculpture was a birthday gift Kyran had carved by hand for his brother. She had wanted it for years. She had asked countless times, but Alban had never agreed. Now he offered it as if it meant nothing.

She nodded. "I understand. I won't cause trouble anymore."

When she yielded so easily, Alban's lips curved in satisfaction. *I knew it. Just as I thought.*

At that moment, Davina called again. This time, he did not hesitate. He turned and left at once.

Alban did not come home for several days. Instead, Davina checked in from time to time with messages, photos, and short videos.

Some showed Alban from behind as he cooked in her kitchen. Others captured him at the piano, playing for her alone. A few clips showed him tidying her apartment, sleeves rolled up, movements patient and familiar.

Davina sent them for one reason only: to ensure Eliza understood how deeply he loved her and how completely he indulged her.

On ordinary days, the images stirred nothing in Eliza. She felt no anger, no jealousy. They barely caused a ripple.

But on Kyran's birthday, the photos struck differently.

When Kyran was alive, he had treated her the same way, gently and attentively, as if she were something precious he needed to protect.

After he died, no one ever loved her like that again.

She baked a cake and set it on the table. Then she opened Davina's posts once more.

Memories rose unbidden. Kyran stood beside her, smiling, teasing, holding her hand. When her gaze shifted to Alban's identical face on the screen, her sadness deepened.

She lowered her head onto the table and closed her eyes. Tears soaked the sleeve beneath her cheek.

When Alban came home, that was the scene that greeted him.

Eliza had fallen asleep, her phone loosely clutched in her hand, tear tracks still fresh on her face.

He paused before walking closer. Only then did he notice the cake on the table.

She had remembered his birthday. She even knew he liked matcha.

In childhood, he had always shared his birthday with Kyran. Their parents favored the older twin, and no one prepared a cake just for him. After Kyran died, he stopped celebrating altogether. No one remembered. He had not marked his birthday in years.

He was rarely home on that day. Had she been quietly celebrating for him every year?

He sat beside her. His hand brushed her phone by accident, and he caught a glimpse of the screen from the corner of his eye.

He picked it up. The photo album was open. Thousands of photos filled the screen, all of him. There were images of his back, his profile, his smile. Some showed him with his eyes closed in thought.

He scrolled to the bottom. The earliest photos dated back eight years. The most recent were from three years ago.

For a moment, he could not name what he felt. Shock came first. Then a flicker of emotion that moved him. Beneath it all lay a faint, undeniable satisfaction.

'So Eliza has been secretly in love with me for that long,' he thought.

Eliza stirred and woke. When she saw him holding her phone, she panicked and reached out to snatch it back.

Alban assumed she felt embarrassed that her secret had been exposed. His voice hardened. "Who told you to celebrate my birthday? Don't you know I never celebrate it?"

She froze. Only then did she realize he had misunderstood again.

He did not notice her expression. He pulled the cake closer.

"Just this once," he said. "There won't be a next time. Go on. Light the candles for me."

There was no room to correct him now, so Eliza let the misunderstanding stand.

She lit the candles, sang the birthday song, and cut the cake for him. When she looked at him, her eyes brimmed with tenderness.

His face was exactly the same as Kyran's.

She told herself, 'It's fine. I will simply pretend I'm celebrating Kyran's birthday instead.'