Before I could even speak, Alexis rushed forward and knelt in front of me, crying so hard her whole body was shaking.

"Grace, if you want to hit someone, hit me. If you want to curse someone out, curse me out.

"I'm the shameless one, and I'm the one who insisted on having this child. I never meant to fight you for anything. I just wanted Junior to know that, like other kids, he also has a dad who loves him.

"Please leave Junior here and let him live with Mr. Acevedo. If it's because of me, I'm willing to die!"

She turned her head and was about to slam into the wall.

"Alexis!"

Alex's voice turned stern as he took two quick steps forward and grabbed her.

Looking at her tear-streaked face, his gaze complicated, he turned back to look at Junior, who was also crying on the floor. In the end, he sighed, and his tone softened.

"Alright, alright. I'll handle it."

He turned to look at me. His brows were still knitted, and his voice sounded tired.

"Darling. Junior is a kid, he doesn't understand. It didn't even hurt. Why do you have to be so aggressive? I'll apologize to you for him, okay?

"I was going to tell you tonight, but you just had to run over here and make it so nobody can have any peace.

"Alexis is sick. There's nothing between us. We've always wanted a child, and now we have Junior. From now on he'll live with us. He's our child. You should be happy."

"Happy?"

"Alex, this is what you call coming back to the family.

"Because she's sick, you have to live here with her. Because she's sick, you have to sleep with her? Because she's sick, you give me this 'surprise' on our anniversary?"

I tugged at the corner of my mouth.

I wiped away my tears and let my gaze sweep over this home inch by inch.

A few hundred square feet, piled full of toys and books from a child growing up.

There was even crayon graffiti on the wall.

Blue sky and white clouds. A family of three.

At the bottom, Alex's name was signed there neatly.

On the doorframe, dates were carved in for the child's height at every stage.

The newest one was from yesterday.

I recognized that familiar handwriting instantly—it was Alex's.

Every time, it was the day before our dating anniversary or our wedding anniversary. He would come here.

Keeping this little family company.

Compared to the money he used to spend on other women, this place was too ordinary, yet its warmth was glaringly painful.

This time, I was the third wheel who barged into someone else's happy life.

I turned back. What I was crushing in my hand was no longer Alex's dress shirt.

He was wearing loungewear that matched Alexis's and the child's exactly.

The more I looked, the more I laughed.

As I laughed, tears rolled down.

I shoved him away, pressing my hand against his chest, not allowing him one step closer.

"Alex, how could I be so stupid, thinking you would really settle down."

I raised my hand to wipe the tears from my eyes. "Alex, we're getting a divorce."

"Divorce?"

He was shocked.

The word was taboo for us. No matter how much we fought, we had never touched it.

His face turned pale as he let out a vicious low roar: "Impossible!"

He suddenly rushed over, grabbed me, and strode into the room. Shoving me inside, he slammed the door shut.

The lock clicked outside.

That shove made the pain in my already sore lower abdomen worsen.

I thought of the fall I had just taken and worried something might happen to the baby. I took a deep breath, steadied my voice, and begged him, "Alex, my stomach doesn't feel good. I won't fight with you anymore. Can you take me to the hospital first?"

Through the door, his voice was pained and helpless: "Grace, stop lying to me. If I let you out, you'll leave me, but you promised you'd stay. You promised you'd never leave."

"I won't sign the divorce papers. Just give up."

"I'll handle everything. I want this child, and I'm not letting you go either!"

"Alex, I'm really hurting!"

The footsteps outside the door disappeared.

No matter how much I shouted, no one responded. I don't know how long passed—my throat went raw until I couldn't make a sound anymore.

The pain in my stomach grew worse, and something warm trickled down.

My dress was soaked through with blood. My body turned cold in waves. In the darkness, I could almost see my baby slipping away from me.

Then I heard voices outside the door again. Hope flickered back to life.

"Alex! Alex, I'm bleeding!"

"Call 911, please—"

Several lit paper wads were shoved through the crack in the door. The sealed room filled with smoke instantly, choking me until I couldn't open my eyes.

"Bad woman! Dad's taking Mom to the hospital. They won't be back for three days. You can just stay locked in there until you die!"

A child's voice.

My child.

I couldn't wait any longer. I staggered to my feet.

This was a storage room—no windows except a tiny skylight above my head.

I looked around. Nothing but a dirty bedsheet.

I bit my lip hard. The pain cleared my head just enough. I wrapped the sheet around my hand.

Facing the triple-paned glass, I smashed down.

Once. Twice.

The pain blacked out my vision. I nearly passed out right there.

On the seventeenth hit, the glass finally shattered.

I climbed out through that tiny skylight.

Dragging my blood-soaked body to the roadside, I flagged down a car.

"Please. Take me to the hospital."

I passed out before I finished speaking.

When I woke up, I was already in a hospital bed.

Four days unconscious, they told me. The baby couldn't be saved. My arm was fractured from hitting the glass—three months in a cast.

Over thirty wounds covered my body.

I didn't care about any of them.

Only the child. The child that had made me hope again.

I'd imagined telling Alex on our seventh anniversary. Pictured the look on his face when he found out.

None of that mattered now.

He already had a child with someone else. Why would he care about ours?

Against the doctor's orders, I signed myself out. Before I even made it downstairs, Alex called.

I thought maybe he'd seen the blood all over the floor. Maybe he finally remembered to care.

The call connected. His voice was ice-cold.

"Grace, I only locked you up for three days to let you calm down. I even left Junior there to order takeout—told him to get you food too."

"And you set the house on fire? You hit Junior? You were so jealous you attacked a child and almost burned him alive!"

"Alex. You called just to say this?"

My voice cracked. Before, he would have heard it instantly. No matter what happened, he'd appear at my side and coax me until I smiled again.

This time, he just paused. A long silence. Then his voice came again—gentle, and devastating:

"You have one day. I'm bringing Junior home tonight. You will apologize to him in person." A beat. "Otherwise, don't bother threatening me with divorce anymore. You know what arson means here—attempted murder of a child. Prison time. And if you go to prison? Even if you don't want the divorce, the Acevedo family doesn't want a daughter-in-law like you."

I couldn't listen anymore and hung up.