After Henry left, there was no news from him at all.

I waited for him day and night, but he never came back.

I was starving and couldn't bear it anymore. Despite my weakness, I forced myself to go to the kitchen and prepare something to eat.

There was a pressure cooker on the stove. I opened it and looked inside. There indeed was chicken soup there.

There were also some scraps of meat, along with a chicken neck and chicken butt.

Henry had taken all the best cuts of meat. There wasn't a single piece left.

I froze for a moment before letting out an unbelievable laugh.

I didn't even know what I was still hoping for.

I boiled a bowl of instant pasta with plain water.

That was when Henry came back.

Seeing me wobbling as I carried the bowl of pasta out, he frowned slightly.

"You're pregnant, and you're eating this? How is this nutritious?"

He stepped forward to support me and helped me sit at the dining table. He even thoughtfully pulled out a chair for me.

I glanced at him in surprise.

I sat down and took two bites of the pasta before putting my utensils down.

"I don't have the fortune of enjoying food made by others, so I can only make do with a bowl of pasta."

A trace of awkwardness appeared on Henry's face. He cleared his throat lightly and glanced at me.

"If you hadn't been saying those things to provoke me today, I wouldn't have gotten so mad that I forgot about this. Besides, I left you some chicken, didn't I? You're pregnant—you shouldn't be picky. Meat is meat, you should eat it," he muttered nonstop.

I pressed my temples irritably, and my face grew paler.

"Can you stop talking? Did you forget that just the smell of chicken soup makes me want to vomit? How could I possibly eat it?"

Henry, who was about to lose his temper, suddenly stopped.

It was almost comical.

He really had forgotten about that.

"I-It's just… I was busy taking care of Queenie today and forgot. She said she wanted chicken soup, so of course, I had to prioritize the patient."

As he spoke, Henry seemed to gain more confidence and started mocking me, "Besides, your limbs are still working, and you're not sick. You just lost a bit of blood. Do you really have to act as if you're dying?"

My chest tightened with frustration at his words.

Queenie. It was always Queenie.

In Henry's eyes, even though I was carrying the child of the Palmer family, no matter how much I suffered, I would never be as important as Queenie.

When I thought back to when Henry and I first got married, I remembered that everyone in his family had belittled me. They said I wasn't good enough for him. They all believed that Queenie and Henry were a perfect match.

They even went behind my back, using my name to invite him out on trips.

At first, Henry would always tell me about it.

But as time passed, he changed. He stopped mentioning Queenie inviting him out.

Now I finally understood. Maybe the day he stopped telling me was the day his heart wavered.

Noticing my silence and dazed expression, Henry said, "Alright, honey, I know you've had a hard time. You're pregnant, yet you still risked yourself to donate blood. Come on. Let me feed you."

He lifted the bowl and picked up a bit of pasta with the utensils. Then he brought it to my mouth in an attempt to please me.

A faint fragrance drifted from his sleeve and reached my nose.

It was Queenie's scent.

A wave of nausea surged up in me.

I couldn't hold it in anymore and ran straight to the bathroom to vomit.

The two bites of pasta I had just eaten all came back up.

After finally regaining some composure, I lifted my head and looked at my weak and disheveled reflection in the mirror.

Behind me, Henry looked a little flustered.

He held onto my arm and asked with concern, "Honey, what's wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital for a check-up?"

I shook off his hand forcefully and said flatly, "No. Just stay away from me."

Henry's face darkened as he was just trying to appease me just now.

When I walked back to the bedroom, he muttered under his breath, "I swear, you're just ungrateful. I was trying to help you, and yet you're acting all high and mighty."

I heard what he said.

Lying on the bed, I panted heavily. My eyes turned red.

I met Henry at a musical.

I was a dancer on stage, and he was a musician for the show. Our teacher introduced us.

The first time I saw him, I was captivated by his dedication to music.

During rehearsals, I was careless and almost fell off the stage.

Henry caught me in time, cushioning my fall so I didn't get hurt. But his right leg fractured.

At that time, I was trembling in fear.

He hugged me tightly.

"What are you afraid of? I don't want any compensation from you. Besides, even if my leg is broken, it won't affect me much. But for you, a fracture in your leg would change your entire life."

I fell into his gentle embrace because of those words.

Unfortunately, I now realized that dedication to music didn't mean loyalty in love.

He loved the way I danced, but he could just as easily fall for Queenie's youthful movements.

I was half-asleep and vaguely heard Henry push the door open.

He was holding a bowl of my favorite oatmeal with fruit. "Wake up, honey. You can't just sleep without eating anything. It's bad for your health."

I remained still.

For once, Henry didn't get angry. Instead, he carefully helped me sit up in bed and spoke softly.

"Even if you're mad at me and don't want to eat, at least think about the baby. The baby needs nutrition. Eat this, and you can take out all your anger on me afterward."

For the first time in forever, he was coaxing me with patience.

I couldn't help but glance at him.

Henry held the bowl with a flicker of eagerness in his eyes.

The last time he was this gentle and considerate, he had a favor to ask.

He wanted me to give up my spot in the dance competition for Queenie.

"You're already pregnant anyway, so you can't compete in the dance contest. Why not let Queenie have the spot? She's been wanting to join this competition for so long."

I suddenly realized that he was asking for something again.

Calmly, I took the bowl from Henry's hands and looked at him expressionlessly.

"Go ahead, tell me. What do you want this time?"

Henry gave an awkward smile. "Honey, what are you talking about? Even if I didn't want anything from you, making you food is something I should do."

"If you won't say it, I'll take it that nothing's going on."

His expression changed immediately, and as if afraid I'd refuse, he quickly blurted out, "It's just that Queenie wants to eat your pot roast and creamy clam chowder. I've already bought the ingredients. Just make them tomorrow, and I'll bring them to her."

Even though I had been prepared for this, his words still felt as though a sword was slowly piercing my heart, inch by inch.

At this point, even if I had been oblivious before, I finally understood that I had long been worthless in everyone's eyes.

Growing up, I was nothing more than a maid in my own home. I was ordered around by Queenie.

My parents only doted on her, wishing they could give her everything in the world.

She had the happiness I could only dream of.

She got to learn painting and dancing, while I had to beg my parents for half a month just to get my school tuition.

I even only got to dance because of Queenie.

She didn't want to go, but since the fee had already been paid, I volunteered.

Later, Queenie became jealous and started making a fuss about wanting to dance.

To motivate her, my parents allowed me to continue learning dance.

Even so, I wasn't even worthy of owning a pair of ballet shoes.

Every time I danced, I was barefoot.

Queenie would always step on me purposely, making everyone laugh.

"Stephanie, you look so ugly dancing barefoot!"

Then, Henry proposed to me, and I married him with no hesitation.

I thought I could escape those tormenting days.

But now, I realized that those days never really ended.

They just changed form.

The person tormenting me had become my husband.

I forced myself to hold back the sting at the tip of my nose. Then, I raised my head to keep the tears in my eyes from falling and asked Henry, "Do you not know that I just donated 14 ounces of blood while pregnant? And now you want me to cook?"

The look of flattery on Henry's face quickly darkened, and he spoke impatiently. "Why are you dragging this out? It's just cooking, and you're acting so reluctant. It's just 14 ounces. If the doctor hadn't limited the amount, I would have asked them to take even more!"

I looked at him in disbelief.

Tears finally streamed down my face uncontrollably.

"So in your eyes, I'm just a walking blood bank. Is that it? Then why did you even marry me in the first place?"

Henry looked at me, and a flicker of panic flashed in his eyes.

Just as he was about to comfort me, his phone rang.

Queenie's delicate voice came through.

"I feel so awful, Henry. Can my sister cook for me? I know she just hates me and wants me dead. She probably wishes I would just disappear!"

From the phone, I could hear my parents quickly comforting her, followed by their scolding which was directed at me.

"Queenie, don't cry. Stephanie will cook for you. If she refuses, I'll kick her out of the family tomorrow!"

"Exactly. It's just cooking. It's not as if we're asking her to die."

Henry, who was already furious, suddenly grabbed my hair and yanked me toward the phone. He glared at me with bloodshot eyes.

"Are you going to do it or not? Answer Queenie now!"

I felt as if my scalp was being torn apart. The pain made my entire body tremble.

The man who I once saw as my savior was now like a demon. He was dragging me into an endless abyss.

I had completely lost all hope in him.

"I will. I'll do it!" I forced the words through clenched teeth.

Only then did Henry release me. He gave me a cold, expressionless glance before taking his phone and walking onto the balcony.

He left me sitting on the floor, utterly humiliated.

A long time passed before I finally forced myself to stand up and stagger toward the kitchen.

I didn't even notice when Henry returned.

Looking at me smugly, he said, "Stephanie, don't you think you're pathetic? If you'd just agreed in the first place, none of this would have happened. You always have to make a fuss before you give in."

I said nothing.

He used to love me so deeply.

He couldn't bear to see me suffer even the slightest anguish.

I once got into a minor car accident.

The other driver stormed over aggressively.

That day, Henry—usually so gentle and refined—lost his temper for the first time. He even got into a fight with the man on the street.

He told me no matter what happened, he would be my safest protector.

But now, the person who once swore to protect me had become the one who hurt me the most.

His eyes and heart had long since erased me.

By the time I finished cooking, it was already past midnight.

I hadn't slept all night.

Early in the morning, Henry took the food and left for the hospital.

I watched the clock until nine, then got up to leave.

Today was the appointment for the abortion.

At the hospital, I lay on the hospital bed while waiting for the nurse to wheel me into the operating room.

The doctor performing the procedure asked me with a trace of regret, "Mrs. Palmer, are you sure you don't want to reconsider?"

"No. Losing it is the best choice," I replied eerily calmly.

The anesthesia was injected into me.

As I was being pushed toward the operating room, Henry happened to walk by.

Henry saw me lying motionless on the bed. Half of my face was covered by the blanket.

His entire body suddenly trembled, and his legs seemed to go weak.

He quickly grabbed the nurse beside him and asked, "Who is that? What surgery is she having? Why is she going into the operating room?"