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?"