All I received was an inconspicuous bracelet core, while the real bracelet adorned Hazel’s wrist. What I had was a counterfeit—indistinguishable from the original but ultimately meaningless. And yet, I was forced to smile, endure the celebration banquet Julian arranged in my honor, and attend charity dinners and media interviews.

How absurd it all was.

Julian thought he had hidden the truth flawlessly. But Hazel had already revealed everything to me a month ago, hoping to push me out of my place. Back then, I was blissfully unaware, clinging to hope after undergoing my third artificial insemination.

I glanced at my bruised arms and belly, marked by countless injections and the painful aftermath of ovulation induction and surgery. The sight of the needle marks and discoloration reminded me of all I had endured.

Why?

Why had I subjected myself to so much pain? Why had I swallowed every grievance, held back every tear, and remained silent in my discomfort?

The answer was simple: Julian. His facade had been perfect.

In public, he played the devoted husband, loving me as if I were his entire world. But in private, he shared that same affection—and more—with another woman. Hazel. The woman carrying his child.

The revelation crushed me. Just as I finally achieved the joy I’d waited eight long years for, I was dealt a devastating blow.

I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, forcing myself to suppress the heartbreak. And in that moment, a decision crystallized within me—one so shocking that even I couldn’t believe it.

This child cannot stay.

I will not give birth to a child for Julian. He is unworthy of being a father, and I refuse to allow myself to feel joy on his behalf.

He doesn’t deserve it.

And neither do I.

As soon as I made that decision, a sharp pain suddenly shot through my lower abdomen, taking me by surprise. I wasn’t sure if the child could sense my emotions, but it felt as if he, too, was grieving for me.

I'm so sorry, my baby.

Mommy can’t keep you.

Tears blurred my vision as I held my phone, trembling with emotions while I made an appointment with the obstetrics and gynecology department. That was when Julian entered.

He was unusually careful, immediately noticing that something was wrong. His gaze softened when he saw the tears in my eyes.

"Audrey, why are you crying? Are you feeling unwell?"

His voice, full of false concern, made my heart sink.

"I... I got too caught up in everything. I made a scene, and now you can’t get the rest you need. It’s my fault. I didn’t think it through."

He cupped my face gently, his fingertips brushing away the tears from the corners of my eyes before he planted a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Audrey, thank you for everything. You've suffered so much these last ten months, but the days ahead will be sweet. If we have a boy, we’ll protect you together. If it’s a girl, I’ll protect both of you."

I couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. Leaning against his chest, I felt the warmth of his body—but all I could sense was the hypocrisy.

I was about to speak, to finally confront him, when his phone rang.

He pulled away from me, glancing at the screen before his expression faltered. He quickly hung up. But the phone continued to ring, and the unease on his face grew.

"Answer it. It might be something important," I said, pretending not to notice.

Julian walked away to answer the call, but the delicate voice of Hazel came through clearly from the other side of the room.

"Julian, can you come over? I suddenly feel so uneasy... I'm not feeling well..."

Julian’s face tightened, and he glanced back at me, his unease visible. He hung up hurriedly, as though desperate to prevent me from hearing.

He returned to me with an awkward smile, grasping my hand, his excuses already on his lips.

"Audrey, there’s an issue at the banquet. I need to go take care of it. You rest here, okay?"

"Go on," I replied, my voice flat, my heart completely hollow.

I had no more strength to confront him. The words I had prepared vanished as I realized how futile they would be.

I ignored his weak excuses, barely able to hold back the overwhelming urge to push him away. I just wanted him to leave.

Every minute, every second spent with him now felt suffocating, like I was struggling for air.

Julian didn’t say much. He brushed off my discomfort, gave my hand a perfunctory squeeze, and walked out without a second glance.

As expected.

Not long after, Hazel’s message arrived, a taunting display of her victory.

"Audrey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. But Julian left you so quickly and came to see me. I hope you weren’t hiding away and crying alone?"

"I’m only doing this for your own good. You need to face the truth—you’re not loved. You don’t know that Julian talks about you all the time to me, always shaking his head and saying how you’re 'old,' 'lifeless,' and 'unromantic.'"

"He’s still with you only out of guilt, fulfilling some sense of responsibility, but there’s no love left. Please, Audrey, wake up and see it for yourself."

Each word pierced like a blade, but at this point, I had grown numb to the pain. It didn’t sting anymore.

A month ago, when Hazel first contacted me, it felt like I had died a thousand deaths.

At the time, I had just undergone my third round of artificial insemination. I was still recovering in the hospital, struggling with the aftermath of the first two failed attempts, both ending in miscarriage. This time, I was extra cautious.

But Hazel didn’t care. She sent me photos and messages, showing off behind Julian’s back.

In one photo, she lay in our master bedroom while Julian was on top of her, the marks on her back a clear sign of their intimate encounter.

She was so giddy, her face flushed with excitement, her eyes clouded with desire, that it was evident even in the photos she sent. Her words, dripping with heat, left no room for interpretation.

“Audrey, make sure to rest well! Julian will be in my care for a few days.”

“He’s insatiable, really. I’m exhausted. From morning to night, he won’t let me leave the bed...”

“By the way, Julian said making love on the bed you used to sleep in was so thrilling, so special. I have to agree, it did feel different.”

In that moment, the world around me collapsed.

I understood every word, yet together they formed a meaning that ripped through me.

I stood frozen, unable to react, but with each tear that slid down my cheek, the reality became clearer.

Each droplet blurred the screen, wetting the blanket beneath me, and I couldn’t stop them.

The weight of my despair was unbearable, like a mountain silently crumbling under the weight of snow. The flakes fell like jagged knives, piercing my heart over and over again.

The cold seeped into my soul, and I could feel the pain manifesting in my tears—tears that bled pure sorrow, making me feel as though my heart was being torn apart, screaming in agony without sound.

I don't even remember how I made it through. I don't know how the child inside me survived.

All I remember is the endless shots of hormone injections I endured, my muscles stiff and my skin bruised, each one a desperate attempt to protect what little hope I had left.

A week passed before Julian, who had claimed to be on a business trip, returned. He was his usual charming, gentlemanly self, bringing a "gift" from his trip.

That night, Hazel posted a picture flaunting her new bag and watch, but only I could see it. It was then I realized—the so-called gift Julian had brought me was nothing more than a trinket Hazel had purchased, just another token after her lavish spending.

It was cheap, insignificant—just like I was in his eyes.

And in that moment, I finally saw the truth. The truth of Julian’s hypocrisy.

The blindfold I had been wearing for so long was ripped away, and I was awake. Completely awake.

It turns out that love has an expiration date—a very short one. A lifetime together is nothing more than a myth. People’s affections shift quickly, unpredictably, like the changing winds. Julian and I had reached the end of our story. There was no future left for us.

With a heavy heart, I made my decision. I walked out of the banquet, no longer able to bear the pretense, and took a taxi straight to the obstetrics and gynecology department of the hospital.

The clinic was quiet in the afternoon, and it wasn’t long before it was my turn. The nurse at the counter, with a sharp eye, instantly recognized me. She hesitated before asking if I was the infamous Mrs. Foster from the headlines.

I smiled, hiding the ache in my heart, and shook my head. "My name is Audrey Quinn, not Mrs. Foster."

Before she could respond, her colleague pulled her aside, whispering in a low voice. "Are you an idiot? Mrs. Foster underwent three artificial inseminations and finally got pregnant. How could she possibly want an abortion?"

The nurse went silent, her face reddening with embarrassment, and quickly apologized.

I entered the consultation room and explained my situation to the doctor. I lied, claiming that the father of the child had tragically died in a car accident. I told him I was resolute in my decision to terminate the pregnancy.

The doctor, perhaps sensing my pain, didn’t press further. He prescribed me medication to halt the pregnancy’s progress and handed me a prescription for the procedure, asking me to return the next morning.

I left the clinic, the effects of the medication already making me feel dizzy and unsteady. My body felt heavy, and I struggled to keep my eyes open. Once home, I collapsed into bed, the exhaustion pulling me under.

I slept deeply, though my sleep was restless, filled with disjointed dreams.

In those dreams, I was running—though not freely. My legs felt sluggish, like they were weighed down by invisible chains. I tried to run faster, but my body resisted, my breath coming in short gasps. I was suffocating.

And then—

I stepped into nothingness. The world tilted, and I felt myself plummeting, weightless, as the ground disappeared beneath me.

The shock of that sensation jolted me awake, heart racing, breath shallow. The heaviness in my chest lingered, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell whether it was from the dream or the reality of my waking life.

When I opened my eyes, the darkness of the night pressed in, and Julian was standing by my bed, his face etched with concern.

"Audrey, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?" he asked, his voice laced with unease. "Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll always protect you."

His arms wrapped around me in a comforting embrace, but I could smell the unmistakable scent of lust on him, mingling with the perfume that Hazel favored.

His clothes were disheveled, and the faint smell of oil lingered on his hands—he must have just come from the kitchen, rushing over to me. His worried expression seemed genuine, but I couldn’t shake the knot in my stomach.

"I was really scared," he continued, his voice soft. "I was cooking noodles for you, and I heard you shouting. I thought you had a nightmare, so I ran in."

He studied my face, his brow furrowing as he noticed my discomfort. "Audrey, what's wrong? You look so pale. Do you want to go to the hospital?"

I shook my head, forcing a smile to suppress the tremor in my throat. "It's nothing, just some early pregnancy discomfort. I’ll be fine."

His distress seemed to deepen. "You’re so strong, Audrey. I wish I could bear all the pain for you."

Really?

I smiled coldly, my heart heavy with the weight of his hypocrisy. Wasn't it he who had caused all my pain?

I didn’t want to continue this charade any longer. I reached under my pillow and pulled out the "gift" I had prepared. It was time to end things.

"You’ve been so good to me, Julian," I said, my voice soft but steady. "I also have a gift for you."

Julian’s eyes brightened with surprise, and he eagerly reached for it.

"Wait," I stopped him, a weak smile playing on my lips. "This gift isn’t ready to be opened yet. I want you to open it in three days, okay?"

He chuckled and pinched my nose affectionately, teasing, "So mysterious? What’s the surprise?"

I could barely hold back my emotions, my words dripping with sarcasm. "Three days are going to feel so long... but I’ll manage."