Chapter 2

Helen was woken up by the pungent smell of disinfectant.

She opened her eyes. Everything was blindingly white, the ceiling, the walls, the curtains. She could hear noisy voices, footsteps, carts being pushed, and even the faint sound of someone crying.

Hospital?

Was I alive?

Helen moved her fingers and realized she was lying in a hospital bed. She heard voices nearby, so she turned her head and saw two nurses passing by the door.

"On the third floor, in the maternity ward. I heard she fell and couldn't save the baby."

"That's so sad."

Baby? What baby?

Helen froze for a moment, then instinctively reached down to touch her stomach.

Her stomach was flat.

But then, a flood of images rushed into her mind—stairs, falling, blood, and a man's shoes.

No, this wasn't the day she died.

Helen sat up abruptly and looked down at her hands. They were younger, no wrinkles, no spots, and her nails were neatly trimmed, with no sign of the break from that day.

She turned her head and spotted her phone on the nightstand.

It was an iPhone 11.

The year she died, she had an iPhone 15.

Helen's hands trembled as she picked up the phone and unlocked it.

March 15, 2020 stared back at her from the screen.

She stared at those numbers for what felt like ages. The screen kept going dark, but she stubbornly tapped it back to life, over and over.

2020 was four years ago?

No, that was not right.

She got married in 2015, so 2020 should be...

Helen had been married for five years.

That was the day she found out she was pregnant for the second time.

Helen's fingers trembled as she opened WhatsApp and scrolled through her chat history with Edward. The last message was from her: [Edward, I went to the hospital today. I'm pregnant.]

Edward's reply came two hours later: [Got it.]

Got it.

Those words were so simple.

Helen stared at those words, and suddenly, she laughed. Her laughter quickly turned to tears.

Edward was already like this ten years ago.

So it wasn't that she endured ten years of suffering; it was that she had been struggling from the very start.

The hospital room door was pushed open.

A man stepped in, dressed in a crisp suit, with a cold, unapproachable look that made it clear strangers should keep their distance.

It was Edward.

Helen looked at his face—the face she had loved for ten years, the face that had brought her as much pain. For a moment, she didn't know what kind of expression she should have on her face.

Edward glanced at her, his gaze briefly lingering on her face before dropping to her stomach for a second, then shifting away.

"Did you lose the baby?" he asked.

His voice was so casual, it was as if he were asking about the weather.

Helen opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, the door burst open, and someone rushed in.

It was Vivian.

Vivian, in her twenties, wore a white dress and let her long hair fall over her shoulders. Her eyes were red, and she looked so fragile. As soon as she walked in, she ran over to Edward and grabbed his arm.

"Edward, it's all my fault. I didn't know Helen was behind me. I shouldn't have asked you to pick me up. Helen, are you okay? You can hit me or yell at me if you want, don't blame Edward," Vivian said.

Helen stared at her.

This was like ten years ago.

That day, Helen had come to the hospital for a check-up and saw Edward's car parked at the entrance. When she walked over, she saw Vivian getting out of the car, looking pale, with Edward helping her out.

"What happened?" Helen asked.

Edward glanced at her and replied, "Vivian had low blood sugar, so I brought her here."

Helen had innocently said, "I'll go with you."

Once inside the elevator, Vivian suddenly claimed she felt dizzy and leaned on Edward. He reached out to support her, completely oblivious to Helen being shoved to the side.

The elevator doors slid open, and people flooded in. Someone bumped into Helen, sending her stumbling backward.

Helen tumbled down the stairs.

Her baby was gone.

Helen remembered lying on the ground, her whole body trembling in pain, her vision swimming.

She heard Vivian scream, "Edward, there's blood. I'm scared of blood."

Then she saw Edward pull Vivian protectively behind him, telling everyone around, "Step aside, she faints at the sight of blood."

No one cared about her.

She carried that memory with her for ten years.

Now, the exact same scene was unfolding again right before her eyes.

Vivian was still crying. She said, "Helen, please, don't blame me. I swear I didn't mean to..."

Edward frowned at Helen, saying, "Enough."

It was still the same old words.

Same words, even after ten years.

Suddenly, Helen let out a laugh.

She sat up, pulled back the blanket, and got out of bed. Her legs were a bit weak, but she steadied herself against the nightstand.

Edward watched her, his frown deepening. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Helen ignored him, grabbed her phone, and dialed a number right before his eyes.

"Hello, is this the OB-GYN department? I'd like to schedule an abortion for tomorrow," Helen said.

The room instantly went dead silent.

Vivian's crying stopped in an instant. She looked up at Helen, staring as if she couldn't believe what she had heard.

Edward's face darkened.

He took a step forward and asked coldly, "What did you say?"

Helen hung up the phone and looked up, meeting his gaze head-on.

This time, there were no tears, no feeling sorry for herself, no more watching his every reaction.

She smiled.

"Edward," Helen said, "tomorrow, I'm having an abortion. After that, we're even."

She paused, then pulled the ultrasound report from her hospital gown pocket, the one she had seen on the nightstand when she woke up.

Helen handed the paper to him.

"This is your child. Take a look," she said.

Edward lowered his head, staring at the flimsy sheet. On it was a blurry little shape, no bigger than a bean.

His hand trembled for a moment.

Without waiting for his reaction, Helen turned and walked out of the room.

At the door, she paused and turned back.

"Oh, Ms. Rivers," Helen said, giving Vivian a faint smile. "You get squeamish around blood, right? Then you'd better keep your distance from me. Starting tomorrow, I'll be bleeding every month—wouldn't want to freak you out."

Vivian's face turned white as a sheet.

Helen pushed the door open and walked out.

The hallway was bustling with people, the sharp smell of disinfectant hanging in the air. She took one step after another, her legs still shaky, each step feeling like she was walking on cotton.

But Helen never once looked back.

Never again.