When we got to the garage, he said he'd drive. My foot hurt, so I didn't refuse.

Seeing me sit in the back seat, he was irritated. He asked, "Is the front seat poisoned?"

I rolled down the window to air it out.

There wasn't any poison, just a strong scent of Gianna's perfume.

Under Michael's gloomy gaze, I casually said, "You get queasy at the sight of blood."

This explanation seemed to calm him down.

"I accidentally spilled some perfume yesterday. The scent might be a bit strong."

After explaining, he handed me the half-used bottle of perfume.

"I made this myself. It was supposed to be a seventh anniversary gift, but I spilled half of it. If you don't mind, you can have it."

I wouldn't eat someone's leftovers. I wouldn't use someone else's perfume, and wouldn't take someone else's man.

I didn't take it or question him. I just directly refused.

"The blood's about to spill in the car. Can we go to the hospital faster?"

He shut up, realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere.

But he kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, looking like he wanted to say something but held back.

When I closed my eyes, pretending to nap, he finally said, "My mom wants us to return today. Can you..."

He was afraid I'd reveal that Gianna had returned to the country.

I had already decided on a divorce. I didn't want to complicate things.

Especially since if his mom knew I was divorcing because of Gianna, it would only make the divorce harder.

After I nodded, Michael visibly relaxed.

The car was eerily quiet all the way to the hospital. For the first time, I didn't find the silence between us awkward. It was actually nice.

He squinted and dropped me off at the emergency room, then quickly rushed to the burn unit.

"I'll grab some medicine and come back to stay with you!

"Once it's done, we'll go back to see my mom together."

There was a car accident patient covered in blood in the emergency room. Michael got queasy and couldn't even open his eyes.

The doctor was busy with me for an hour.

But Michael never came to check on me.

Instead, his mom called to ask when I'd be arriving.

I pulled up Twitter and saw Gianna had posted a new status.

"I was overeating seafood and got a stomachache. Someone nearly freaked out, but the doctor said it's indigestion."

I glanced at the picture and saw that it was taken in the same hospital I was in.

Michael wouldn't be going back with me today.

I didn't want to face his mom's pressure to have kids alone, so I immediately made up an excuse not to go back.

When I left the hospital, my stomach was cramped since I hadn't had breakfast. I immediately felt nauseous.

I had to lean against the wall and dry heave. The cold sweat dripped from my forehead.

A doctor passed by and immediately helped me, asking, "Miss, are you alright?"

I shook my head and thanked her for her kindness, then asked where the restroom was and headed straight there.

And I met them just around the corner.

"You're an adult and still make people worry. You greedy thing, overate and now you feel awful!"

"Well, you made the seafood spaghetti so delicious. I almost wanted to eat the plate, too."

I saw Gianna looking at Michael like she wanted to devour him. I couldn't help but feel more nauseous.

Michael's lips curled into a doting smile.

"If you like my cooking, just call me anytime. But don't overeat again!"

Gianna looked up and saw me standing nearby. She smugly grabbed Michael's face and kissed him on the lips.

"Once stamped, no take-backs!"

Michael's hands, which I had pampered so carefully, had never cooked for me. Yet he was willing to be Gianna's personal chef anytime.

The power of a first love is truly destructive.

My stomach cramped painfully, and sweat trickled down my face.

I knew I looked utterly miserable at that moment.

I glanced at the restroom beside me, then at the couple gazing at each other. I chose to walk away.

But Gianna called out to stop me.

"Sofia? What are you doing here?"

Gianna glanced at the dermatology clinic next to me and ran towards me.

Michael immediately reached out to support her waist.

"Slow down. Be careful not to twist your ankle," he said.

As the two approached, Gianna looked at me with disdain.

"Why are you running? Are you afraid we'll find out you have some shameful disease?" Gianna said. Her tone was mocking.

The smile on Michael's face disappeared the moment he saw me.

"Didn't I tell you to wait for me? What's the point of stalking me every day? Can't you control yourself even with an injured leg?" Michael said. His voice was cold.

I looked up at Michael. He seemed to be waiting for me to thank him.

Thank him for trusting that I didn't have some dirty disease.

Thank him for not giving shame to me in front of Gianna.

His face showed no trace of the panic or embarrassment of being caught in a lie.

Instead, it was full of cold reprimand.

My cold sweat at that moment seemed insignificant.

I walked past them. I headed straight for the restroom behind them.

Gianna suddenly blocked my way. Instinctively, I didn't want her to touch me.

As a result, when I lightly shrugged her off, she ended up falling to the ground.

Michael quickly grabbed Gianna, pulling her into his arms. At the same time, he pushed me to the ground.

"Sofia!" Michael shouted.

"Haven't you had enough?" he said. The anger was in his voice.

He didn't use much force, but my foot had just been stitched up. Now, the anesthesia had worn off. The pain was unbearable. I couldn't handle his push.

That light push made my world spin.

The pain from my stomach and foot spread to my abdomen, causing a dull ache. My temples throbbed.

I just wanted to get up and make it to the restroom to vomit.

I managed to get up with difficulty. But Michael grabbed my wrist, refusing to let me go.

"Apologize to Gianna!" he demanded.

His eyes were cold as ice, completely ignoring the fact that the bandage on my foot was soaked in blood.

I was in pain.

I used all my strength just to stand steady.

Holding back tears, I asked Michael to let go of my hand.

He gripped my wrist tightly. His strength was overwhelming.

My fair wrist immediately showed red marks from his grip, but I refused to lower my head.

"It's not my fault you can't control your dog," I said steadily.

"If you don't let go, I won't hesitate to tell everyone at the residence what you've been up to!" I threatened.

Michael let go of my wrist, but his eyes were red as he slapped me across the face.

"You bitch! How dare you!" he shouted.

He seemed to be brewing more harsh words.

But in the next second, I vomited uncontrollably.

I had reached my limit.

Michael was standing close, and he ended up with a lot of my vomit on him.

Compared to my pale face covered in cold sweat, the stains on his white shirt were much more embarrassing.

This brought me a bit of satisfaction.

But the tears continued to fall, brought on by the pain.

Michael saw me silently crying. My face was swollen and red. Surprisingly, he didn't lose his temper over the mess.

He seemed to forget Gianna was there, and instinctively moved closer to pat my back.

"How dare you drink so much last night? You probably gave yourself gastritis! You just can't go a day without causing trouble!" he said. His tone was softening.

The disgusting smell on him made me pinch my nose and step back.

Michael's hand hung in the air, and the concern on his face quickly faded.

"Sofia! I've been way too nice to you, haven't I?"

I ignored him and limped to the restroom to clean myself up.

Michael finally seemed to remember that my foot was injured.

A flash of guilt crossed his face as he followed me to the restroom door, trying to coax me.

"Alright, stop crying! Aren't you embarrassed to be crying at your age?

"I shouldn't have hit you. Let me take you to see a gastroenterologist. Stop making a scene, okay?"

This was the first time he had spoken gently to me since Gianna returned, like he was soothing a child.

But the more he talked, the more nauseous I felt. I couldn't help but retch again.

Michael was in a rare moment of panic. He didn't care that it was the women's restroom and rushed in to pat my back.

"Get out! Don't touch me!" I shouted. He slapped his hand away hysterically.

I pushed his hand away. My voice was shaking with anger.

He froze.

His gaze was full of surprise. It was quickly replaced by rage.

"Aren't you too old to be acting like this?

"You're my wife. You should act like it. If you can't, then let's get divorced!" he declared.

This wasn't the first time Michael used divorce to threaten me.

But it was the first time I looked at him without crying or making a scene and firmly said, "Fine!"

Michael didn't get the tearful apology he expected from me.

It was the first time I ignored him like this, and the stark contrast made him furious.

"Sofia, what did you say?" Michael asked.

I spoke clearly, each word landing with force.

"I said, let's get divorced."

After I said that, I took out the divorce papers I had prepared a year ago and handed them to him.

Michael looked at the slightly yellowed divorce papers with disbelief.

"What game are you playing now? Are you trying to lure me in by backing off?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

"You're overthinking it."

Michael's eyes reddened with anger. His finger trembled as he pointed at me, but he couldn't say a word.

It turns out that initiating a divorce felt this good.

Gianna saw how angry Michael was and mouthed one word at me. "Bitch!"

She considerately took out a wet wipe. She used one hand to wipe the dirt off Michael and the other to soothe him.

"Michael, since she doesn't appreciate it, why should we care about her?

"You burned yourself making hangover soup for her, and she didn't even care. She even spit on you on purpose. Her so-called love is all fake!"

Gianna pouted. Her face was full of concern. It looked just like a wife caring for her husband.

It made me seem cold-hearted, petty, and unfeeling by comparison.

Her palm was deliberately shown with traces of blood, making it unclear who she was feeling sorry for.

Michael took Gianna's hand. His gaze toward me grew colder.

"Sofia, as a woman, why are you so different from Gianna?

"If you're angry, take it out on me. You shouldn't have pushed Gianna. You have to apologize to her today!"

Blood made Michael faint. Yet, he kept looking at the blood on Gianna's palm, gently blowing on it.

True love was powerful indeed. When faced with his beloved's blood, Michael didn't faint at all.

In the past, when I asked him to accompany me for a blood test, the sight of a tiny dot of blood on the cotton swab would make him faint and refuse to stay with me.

Michael didn't mention the divorce anymore.

I agreed to the divorce, and he actually chickened out.

To be honest, I was very disappointed.

For some reason, I felt a dull pain in my abdomen.

I even had the slight feeling that my period was starting.

When I realized my period hadn't come for two months, I panicked.

I had no desire to continue dealing with the jerk and the bitch in front of me. I ran straight into the bathroom.

I just wanted to confirm whether it was my period or if I was pregnant.

When I saw the blood on my underwear, I almost lost my balance.

Luckily, by the time I left the bathroom, Michael and Gianna had already left.

I quickly registered for a blood test.

The waiting process was agonizing.

When the results came out, I was completely shocked.

The child I had been praying for for seven years came at this moment.

The doctor's mouth moved, but all I could hear were the words "threatened miscarriage."

The doctor called out to me several times.

"Ms. Garcia, you need to be hospitalized to protect the pregnancy. Otherwise, you might lose the baby."

"Protect the pregnancy?"

I felt a bit lost.

Out of habit, I dialed Michael's number, one call after another.

He finally answered. His anger came through the phone into my heart.

"Sofia! It's too late for you to realize your mistake now! Even if you die, I won't forgive you easily this time!" Michael said.

I touched my flat stomach and felt a moment of heartache.

And I said, "Please help me schedule an abortion as soon as possible."