Michael finally called me back the next day.

I was at the hospital, getting checked out with the help of a nurse. Once the exam was done, I could go home and rest.

"Emily, where are you? Why aren’t you home?"

I let out a soft laugh. So, he finally remembered I existed.

"What’s so funny? Why didn’t you make breakfast this morning?"

Right. I’d made breakfast for him every morning for years. Because of his sensitive stomach and the fact that he thought outside food was unhygienic, I’d always gotten up early to cook for him.

"Michael, I’m at the hospital."

There was a pause on the other end.

Then, faintly, I heard Lily’s delicate voice. "Michael, is your wife mad because of yesterday? Maybe she’s just pretending she’s in the hospital to punish you. It’s my fault. I don’t even know how to steer a yacht. If it hadn’t capsized, your wife wouldn’t have fallen into the ocean…"

Michael rushed to comfort her. "Don’t say that, sweetheart. With her strong body? No way she’d end up in a hospital. She loves the water. Swims in the pool every week. A little seawater? She probably wishes she could do laps in it."

I stopped listening after that. I didn’t need to hear more.

Inside, I was already shattered beyond repair.

Yes, before I got pregnant, I did love swimming. But now? In the middle of winter in sub-zero ocean water? He thought I wanted to swim laps in it?

Had he forgotten I was six months pregnant?

Since I found out I was expecting, I hadn’t even touched the pool. I barely left the bed, terrified of losing this hard-won child.

Michael had to insist that I attend Lily's birthday party yesterday; otherwise, I wouldn't have gone.

It was her 26th birthday, and she had insisted on some kind of yacht race. Michael and I were paired on one yacht while she was alone on another.

Right when everything had to go smoothly, it didn’t. Her yacht flipped.

Michael had shoved me overboard to save her.

"Emily? What are you doing here?"

His familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Michael was standing there with Lily by his side, helping her stand in line for her check-up.

Meanwhile, I was across the room, picking up my test results.

I looked at him calmly. My husband was helping another woman get medical care while I was left alone to bleed. The absurdity of it all struck me.

"I already told you that I’m at the hospital."

A flicker of guilt and panic crossed his face. He rushed toward me, trying to peek at the paperwork in my hands, but I stepped away.

He coughed awkwardly. "Emily, are you okay?"

"It’s all my fault," he added quickly. "I acted on impulse yesterday. I just wanted to save Lily. I didn’t realize you fell into the water too. I looked for you as soon as I got back on the yacht, honestly. When I heard you were safe, that’s when I took Lily to the hospital."

I looked at him long and hard. If I hadn’t seen through him already, maybe I would’ve believed that speech.

Right on cue, Lily walked up, wiping away tears. "I’m sorry, Emily. It’s all my fault. Please don’t be mad at Michael. Just let him take you home. I can handle the rest of the check-up on my own."

Michael, who had clearly intended to take me home, now visibly hesitated.

And I understood. Of course, I did.

If this had been a few months ago, I’d have backed down. I always did.

And Lily knew it too. That was why she had the nerve to say something so sickeningly sweet and passive-aggressive.

But this time?

I ignored her completely and looked directly at Michael. "Well? Are you coming or not? Because if you’re not, I’ll just go myself."

As we walked away, I caught a glimpse of Lily’s reflection in the hospital’s glass door.

Gone was the delicate, tearful girl. Her face was cold, sharp. Calculating.

She was a completely different person.

The test results weren’t very serious, so I told Michael to drive us home from the hospital.

As the car traversed along the overpass, neither of us said a word. He was clearly worried about his precious childhood sweetheart. On the other hand, I was thinking about how to ask for a divorce.

Soon, his phone suddenly rang. The screen lit up with Lily’s name, flashing again and again.

He glanced at me instinctively. When he saw my expression hadn’t changed, he disconnected the Bluetooth and picked up the call.

Her voice came through loud and clear. I could hear her crying on the other end.

"Michael... I’m scared..."

The car jolted to a sudden stop, tires screeching across the road for several yards.

Bang! My head slammed into the window, but Michael didn’t even check on me.

"Lily, don’t panic. Just tell me what’s wrong!"

"I didn’t catch what the doctor said. He told me to get a blood test, but I’m scared," she sobbed louder. "I’m all alone. I don’t want to do it by myself... Can’t you come? Please? I’m really scared..."

Michael went silent then, but I could feel his eyes on me.

I rubbed the side of my head, which was already red from the impact. "If I told you not to go, would you actually stay?"

He hesitated for a split second. Then, he gave me his answer, "I’m sorry, Emily. She’s just a girl alone in the hospital. I really can’t leave her like that."

I gave him a flat, bitter smile.

So leaving me, a patient, alone on an overpass? That was fine.

So he could just run off guilt-free to be with his little sweetheart?

"You can go," I said. "But leave the car. I’ll drive myself back."

He froze. He knew I couldn’t drive and that I was terrified of it.

Back when I was still taking lessons, I’d been in a car accident—a pileup right on an overpass just like this one. My training car had been crushed in the middle, and I’d nearly died. Since then, I hadn’t touched a steering wheel.

Michael knew that. Nevertheless, without hesitation, he opened the door and got out.

"Emily, don’t be difficult. I’ll be back soon!"

At some point, it had started to rain. He left me there alone on the overpass, then ran off into the storm, disappearing into the blur of traffic.

I sat by myself in the car, wearing a twisted smile.

"Michael, we’re really done this time."

I pulled out my phone and called for a driver.

After I got dropped off at home, there was still no sign of him. No texts. No calls. It wasn’t until I’d packed my things, folded my clothes, and sorted the drawers that he finally called.

Even through the phone, I could hear his voice dripping with guilt.

"Emily, I’m sorry. Lily’s just not doing well right now. She's probably traumatized from yesterday. I need to stay with her today."

I didn’t say a word.

His voice softened, trying to soothe me. "Don’t worry, Emily. I promise I’ll be home tomorrow."

When I hung up, I sat still for a long moment.

The house was cold, silent, and empty.

Somehow, tears had already formed at the corners of my eyes.

I grabbed my phone and made a call.

"Mom... I want to come home."

Mom didn’t know exactly what was going on with me, but home had always been my safe haven.

"Really? Emily, when are you coming home? I’ll have your dad come pick you up."

The moment she mentioned Dad, I couldn’t help but laugh. "Dad? He’s always in meetings. No way he’d have time to come get me."

Mom huffed and shot back, "I said he’ll go—so even if he doesn’t have time, he’ll make time!"

My parents’ marriage had always been something I deeply admired. Maybe because I grew up in such a loving family, when I married Michael, I worked hard to model myself after Mom, doing everything I could to hold our home together.

However, in the end, I forgot something important.

Michael was Michael. And my dad was my dad.

That night, I fell asleep in bed.

The next morning, Michael woke me up. He had come home just to change clothes. He said he was going to spend the day with me, but in reality, he only stayed long enough to eat breakfast.

He looked like he was in a rush.

After a couple of quick bites of a bun, he said, "Lately, Lily’s been in a bad place emotionally. I might need to spend a few more days with her."

He glanced at me nervously, clearly trying to find the right words to soften the blow.

However, before he could say anything more, I nodded and said, "It’s fine. I understand. Go ahead and be with her. I’ll be home the next few days and won’t go out."

Michael was stunned. Maybe he didn’t expect me to agree so easily. He didn’t even get the chance to say all the things he had rehearsed to justify himself. In the end, all he could do was awkwardly nod and hug me tightly.

"Emily, you’re amazing. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon."

Then, he turned and left without even looking back.

I quietly counted.

How many times had he left me like this? And how many of those times were because of Lily?

In the past, I would’ve been heartbroken. I'd have fought with him, cried, and refused to let go.

But now… once I stopped caring, the pain vanished.

Over the next few days, Michael would occasionally show up.

Meanwhile, my wound gradually healed, and my strength began to return.

Then, one morning, I rolled out my suitcase. Everything that belonged to me—every piece of clothing, every personal item—was already packed neatly inside.

It was almost laughable. After all these years of marriage, I couldn’t even fill a single suitcase with things that were truly mine.

That’s when it hit me.

All this time, I’d poured every ounce of myself into caring for Michael, trying to warm the stone he called a heart, and in doing so, I’d forgotten myself completely.

But now? Now it seemed like a good thing. It meant that wiping away all traces of myself from this house was going to be easy.

Before leaving, I placed the divorce agreement on the coffee table in the living room.

On top of the paperwork, I left the one and only gift Michael had ever given me—our wedding ring.

Then, I walked out and took a cab straight to the airport.

What I didn’t expect was for Michael to call me on the way. After all, over the past few days, he’d only contacted me when he needed clean clothes.

I hesitated for a moment but answered, not wanting to tip him off.

His voice came through the phone, laced with urgency. "Emily, the building manager just called. They said you left. Where are you going?"

I froze.

So he’d found out after all.

I lied, "Oh… nowhere really. Just heading to the hospital for a check-up."

His tone instantly relaxed. "You’re right. It’s about time for a prenatal check-up. Wait for me. I’ll come with you."

The moment I hung up, I told the driver to speed up.

Thankfully, by the time the plane took off, Michael still hadn’t contacted me again.

Once I was in the air, I blocked his number.

Meanwhile, back in the city, Michael arrived at the hospital. He made call after call, but every one of them failed to connect. Unable to reach me, he turned to the nurse’s station and asked a doctor.

"Her name’s Emily, right?" The nurse checked the system and looked confused. "She doesn’t have any prenatal check-up scheduled for today. And according to our records—

"A week ago, Mrs. Greene underwent a procedure to terminate the pregnancy."