Chapter 1

My fiancé, Lane Grant, was well-known for being a gentleman and always telling other guys to take care of their girlfriends.

Yet during the five years we'd been together, he only made me take birth control pills.

Last month, I'd been feeling unwell, so I went to the hospital alone.

After going over my test results, the doctor told me I had to stop taking the pills. Otherwise, I'd never be able to have kids.

That day, Lane was live streaming.

I called him seven times.

It wasn't until late at night that he finally replied: [Everyone else handles it fine. Why do you have to be so dramatic? I've got surgery tomorrow. Don't bother me with this trivial stuff.]

I sat alone getting an IV drip in the hospital and didn't make it home until three in the morning.

Lane was fast asleep, with his back to me.

The next morning, he didn't even bother to ask if I was okay.

Today, I used his tablet to edit the wedding guest list and accidentally stumbled on his chat history with his junior lab mate, Yvonne Reed.

At 1:17 AM, Yvonne sent a message: [Lane, Eric still refuses to wear a condom. He wants me to take the pills instead.]

Lane replied instantly: [Don't take them. You felt sick after taking one last time. You can't risk your health again.]

Yvonne sent a crying emoji. [But he said, "Everyone else handles it fine. Why do you have to be so dramatic?"]

I'd heard that before, almost word for word.

Lane immediately called her, and they talked for three whole hours.

In the end, he left a message: [Make him step up. If a guy won't even take basic responsibility, he doesn't deserve to say he loves you. A man who really cares about you would never ask you to risk your health for him.]

I stared at that last sentence for ages, until the tablet screen dimmed and reflected my pale face at me.

Turned out Lane was fully aware of it all. He simply never cared about me.

*****

The bathroom door swung open. Lane came out, towel-drying his hair. When he saw me sitting at the desk, his brows furrowed a bit.

"Finished editing the guest list?" he asked.

I closed the tablet. "Yeah."

"How much birth control do you have left?" His voice was casual, like he was asking if we had milk in the fridge.

I looked at him. "None."

"Buy some after work tomorrow."

"I'm not buying any more."

Lane froze mid-wipe. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not taking them anymore," I said.

He shot me an impatient look. "Zoe Hughes, I'm exhausted from work. I don't want to fight about this. I saw your test results; it's nothing serious."

I almost laughed out loud. He hadn't even opened that report.

"So what now?" I asked.

"What else? Go to the hospital and get something else that works for you. I don't like condoms; they mess with the feeling," Lane replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Eric had said that to Yvonne. Lane had criticized him for being selfish and irresponsible, saying he did not deserve her.

But now Lane was saying the same thing to me, and demanding that I cooperate.

I dropped my gaze. "Okay."

He thought I'd agreed, and his expression finally relaxed. "Have you picked out your wedding dress yet?"

"Yeah."

"Don't reschedule the marriage license appointment again. Mom already got a fortune-teller to pick the perfect date. If we miss this month, the luck's gone."

I nodded. "Alright."

Just then, Lane's phone lit up.

Yvonne sent a photo of a box of specialized latex-free condoms. [Lane, is this the brand you were talking about?]

Lane replied right in front of me. [Yeah, the regular ones make you uncomfortable. I already got you a box and put it in your suitcase for your business trip tomorrow.]

Yvonne quickly sent a happy emoji. ["Thanks, Lane. You are so considerate.]

Lane locked his phone without a hint of guilt.

But I saw clearly that exact box sitting next to his suitcase in the walk-in closet.

He knew which materials made Yvonne uncomfortable, but he couldn't remember that I'd spent an entire night sick in the hospital alone because of those pills.

I got up, walked into the study, and canceled the appointment for the marriage license in three days.

Then I opened the transfer notice my boss, Lucas Carter, had sent me two weeks ago. It was a four-year assignment at the Raionia headquarters.

Back then, I turned it down because the wedding was coming up next month. But now, there was no reason to stay.

I replied: [Mr. Carter, I accept the position in Raionia.]

Lucas called me right away. "You're sure about this? The Raionian team needs you there fast. The earliest flight is the day after tomorrow."

I glanced toward the closet at Lane's suitcase, where those special condoms sat tucked in a side pocket.

"I've made up my mind. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow," I said.