Chapter 1

At two in the morning, my water broke, and I was staring blankly at Ethan's latest Snapchat message.

"Vanessa's bathroom pipe burst, and her kid was so scared he got a fever. I'm going to help out. Won't be back tonight."

Immediately after, an Instagram notification popped up, a red dot. From Vanessa.

The photo showed a man's hand holding a wrench, fixing a pipe, sleeves rolled up, revealing a long, firm forearm. The watch I'd scrimped and saved to buy him gleamed under the light, a painful stab in my eyes.

The caption: "So grateful to have you in this city. Leo's fever is down, and that back-view fixing the pipe? Hottest ever."

The baby in my belly seemed to sense my emotions and kicked me hard.

Sharp pain, accompanied by warm liquid, instantly gushed out, soaking the bedsheet.

I panicked, my hands shaking violently as I dialed Ethan's number.

The first call, hung up.

The second call, still hung up.

I wouldn't give up, desperately dialing a third time.

Finally, it connected.

What came through the earpiece wasn't an anxious inquiry, but a low growl, brimming with anger.

"Chloe, are you done yet? Didn't I tell you? Vanessa is a single mom, it's not easy for her and her kid. Her house is flooded in the middle of the night. If I don't go help, should I just watch them drown?"

The heavy ache in my abdomen made it almost impossible to breathe. I pleaded with him, my voice cracking. "Ethan, my water broke... I'm in so much pain. Where are you? Can you come back and take me to the hospital..."

The other end of the line was silent for a second.

Then Vanessa's panicked voice came through: "Ethan, Leo just threw up again! Is he having a seizure? Please come quickly!"

Ethan's slight hesitation vanished instantly.

His tone became extremely impatient. "Are you jealous because of my Instagram post? Chloe, when did you become so manipulative? To trick me into coming back, you'd even lie about your water breaking? Your due date is still three days away. Stay home by yourself. Don't be unreasonable."

"Beep—"

The call was ruthlessly cut off.

When I tried to call again, his phone was off.

Outside, thunder boomed. Lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating my ghastly pale face.

Despair washed over me like a tide.

This old apartment building had no elevator. Ethan, in his eagerness to provide "on-call support" for Vanessa and her kid, had bought our marital home in a run-down building just two streets away from her place.

Now those six flights of stairs became my gate to hell.

I bit my lip until it bled, grabbed my hospital bag, and leaning against the wall, started to inch my way out, step by agonizing step.

With each step, my lower body felt like it was tearing apart.

Sweat mingled with tears, flowing into my mouth, bitter and salty.

When I finally made it downstairs, the rain was pouring down.

Soaked to the bone, I stood in the heavy rain for a full twenty minutes before finally flagging down a taxi willing to stop.

The driver looked at me, his face turning pale with fright, and he ran two red lights to get me to the nearest hospital.

Inside the emergency room, a nurse pushed a wheelchair toward me, shouting, "Family? Where's the patient's family? We need to get her checked in!"

People came and went in the hall, but I lay alone on the gurney, feeling like trash abandoned by the world.

Trembling, I pulled a card from my soaked bag, handed it to the nurse, and forced a smile uglier than a cry. "No family... I'll sign for myself."