Love Fades Only Shattered Dreams Remain

Three hours before the wedding, my fiancé announced he wouldn’t come to pick me up. Instead, he turned around and registered his marriage with Estelle Banks.

I endured the whispers and gossips from the guests, but then my fiancé’s younger cousin, Vincent Long, pushed open the hotel door.

He arrived with the most extravagant wedding convoy and presented me with 1,001 roses, confessing that he had secretly loved me for years and had always dreamed of marrying me. Moved by his gestures--how he saved me from humiliation, I nodded and agreed to his proposal instantly.

In three years of our marriage, I suffered seven miscarriages and finally managed to get pregnant again.

Vincent was overjoyed and pulled me into his arms, we turned in a single step of dance. With voice full of affection, he told me to rest and promised that he’d cherish both me and the baby with all his life.

At my three months pregnancy, I accidentally overheard his conversation with our private doctor, “Mr. Long, just like the previous times, the miscarriage-inducing drugs have been mixed into her milk.”

“I just don’t understand. If Estelle can give birth to your child, why can’t your wife?”

Vincent chuckled bitterly.

“A requirement to inherit our family company is by having an heir. Kenneth is infertile—there’s no way I’ll let Elle suffer if I had one?”

So all those heartfelt promises were nothing but lies. If that’s the case, I’ll leave.

***

“By doing this, you’re not just giving up the chance to become the company’s next CEO—you’re also sacrificing the family you could’ve had with your wife, the seven children you might’ve raised together.”

“You’ve always had me forge Sir Kenneth’s medical reports. He still doesn’t know he’s infertile. If Estelle has this child and it can’t even call you ‘Dad,’ is all of this really worth it?”

Vincent’s expression softened, a mix of tenderness and sorrow in his gaze.

“So what? I couldn’t marry Elle back then, but I’ll make sure she’s happy for the rest of her life. No one will take that away from her—not even the child Jude and I have together.”

The doctor hesitated, then spoke with quiet urgency. “But your wife… she’s already had seven miscarriages. If she loses another baby, I don’t think she’ll ever be able to get pregnant again.”

Vincent pressed his lips together and, after a long pause, he said, “It’s fine. I’ll take care of her for the rest of my life, no matter what.”

The veins on the back of my hand bulged as I gripped the study door handle. I was so angry that I felt my whole body trembled.

Before Vincent could notice me, I dashed back to our bedroom, slumping to the floor in a daze. I had always thought it was my frail body that caused me to lose seven pregnancies over the past three years.

In the past, Vincent’s father had made one thing clear: whether it was Vincent or Kenneth, whoever produced an heir first would inherit the company and become its next chairman.

After so many miscarriages in such a short span of time, my health had deteriorated badly. Yet I never complained. Instead, I blamed myself, drowning in guilt for holding Vincent back from achieving his success.

But in the end… all my pain and sorrow turned out to be based on a lie.

Vincent had kept me from asking too many questions, insisting we avoid contraception every time we were intimate. He had always reassured me, but with each loss, my body grew weaker, my health crumbling piece by piece.

I realized now that to Vincent, my body—and the seven children I lost—were nothing more than obstacles in Estelle’s path to happiness.

“Jude, why are you sitting on the floor?” Vincent’s voice broke through my thoughts as he walked into the bedroom. He rushed to my side, gently helping me to my feet, his face etched with concern.

“It’s nothing,” I said quietly, forcing a weak smile. “Just a little morning sickness.”

He rubbed my back with care, his touch light but soothing. “Sweetheart, you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Next time you feel unwell, promise me you’ll call. It hurts me to think of you suffering alone.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well since the pregnancy. Once the baby is born, I’ll give them a good scolding for not taking better care of their mom!”

“Here, drink this. It’ll help you relax.”

I stared down at the milk, a pang of sorrow swelling in my chest. Would there even be a next time?

Before each of my previous miscarriages, he had been just as attentive. From thoughtfully preparing late-night snacks to personally making my favorite fruit salad, his care always felt so genuine.