Chapter 1

Before the divorce, Jefferson Motley had a first love he could never forget.

Snow fell hard outside the courthouse.

Jefferson glanced at his watch and frowned. "Let's go in. I have a meeting this afternoon."

He walked ahead with his umbrella, taking long strides, not waiting for me at all.

I followed behind him. Snow slipped into my collar, cold and sharp against my skin.

I didn't speed up. This was the last time I would walk behind him.

Inside, a staff member asked for the reason for our divorce.

"Incompatible personalities," Jefferson said.

I stayed silent.

The truth was simple. He didn't love me.

He never had. Not once.

*****

After we signed the papers and walked out, Jefferson handed me one of the divorce certificates.

His hands looked as nice as ever. His knuckles were clean and defined, and his nails were trimmed short and neat.

I had watched those hands in secret more times than I could count, wondering when they might hold mine, even just once.

Three years had passed. That moment never came.

"Sophie." He called out my name softly.

I looked up at him.

Snowflakes settled on his shoulders. He still looked striking, as if he had stepped out of a painting.

"If anything comes up later, you can contact my assistant." He turned and got into his car right after he said that.

The black Maybach disappeared quickly into the snow.

I stood there, holding the divorce certificate, and suddenly laughed.

He was really coldhearted. After the divorce, I could only reach him through his assistant.

On the third day after the divorce, I moved out of his villa.

I didn't have much. One suitcase was enough.

I had been Mrs. Motley for three years, yet everything I owned was less than what I had back in my college dorm.

Mandy George, the housekeeper, helped me carry my things. Her eyes were red. "Mrs. Motley, are you really leaving?"

"Mandy, don't call me that anymore. We're divorced," I said.

She sighed and said, "Mr. Motley just acts cold. He's soft underneath. You young people just don't understand—"

"Mandy, the car is here," I said, cutting her off.

I knew better than anyone. Jefferson wasn't just acting cold. He was cold to the core.

In three years of marriage, he barely came home.

And when he did, he stayed in his study until late, then left again before sunrise.

We spoke so little that I could count the conversations on one hand.

"Dinner is ready," I had said.

"Okay," he had replied.

"Good night."

"Okay."

"Drive safe."

"Okay."

It was always me talking. He only answered.

On the seventh day after the divorce, the hospital called me. "Hello, is this Ms. Sophie Henry? Your test results are ready. Please come in when you can."

After I hung up, a strange unease settled in my chest.

At the hospital, the doctor looked at me and said, "You're pregnant. About six weeks."

I froze. Six weeks ago was the only night Jefferson came home drunk.

He held me and called someone else's name. "Rebecca... Rebecca..."

Rebecca Sherman was his first love, the one he had kept in his heart for seven years, and the reason our marriage ended.

Half a month before the divorce, she came back.

Jefferson had been distracted those days. Every time his phone rang, he checked it right away. If it wasn't from Rebecca, disappointment flashed in his eyes.

I knew that look too well. I looked at him the same way.

Later, I found a photo in his study. It was a candid shot of Rebecca's back, pressed neatly under the glass on his desk.

"Jefferson, do you have someone you like?" I asked.

He stayed silent for a long time. Then he said, "I'm sorry."

There was no hesitation, no excuse, and no explanation about the past.

He admitted it right away, almost like he had been waiting for me to ask.

"Sophie, I know these three years have been tough on you. You can ask for any compensation you want," he said.

"Then let's get a divorce," I said.

He paused for a few seconds. "Okay."

That was it. There was no hesitation, no trying to stop me, and not even a polite suggestion to think it over.

It felt like he had been waiting for that moment all along.

I walked out of the hospital with the report in my hand and stopped by the roadside. The wind stung my eyes.

After thinking it through, I decided to keep the baby.

It was not because of Jefferson. It was because this child was mine.

On the fifteenth day after the divorce, the morning sickness hit.

I threw up so badly that I felt dizzy, until there was nothing left but bile.

I lived alone in a small rental apartment. It was so quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat.

Jefferson's number was still in my phone.

I never deleted it, but I never called him again.

One month after the divorce, I ran into Rebecca at the supermarket.

She looked even prettier than in the photos. She wore a Chanel suit, her hair styled in soft curls, her smile gentle.

Her cart was filled with imported fruit and red wine.

When she saw me, she paused, then smiled. "You're Sophie, right? I've seen your picture on Jefferson's phone."

She said it casually, like we were old friends.

"Hi," I replied.

"Jefferson told me about you two. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to get involved," she said.

"Are you together now?" I asked.

She lowered her head, smiling a little, almost shy. "He said he would wait for me. He waited seven years. I didn't want him to wait anymore."

I nodded but didn't say anything.

As I pushed my cart past her, I heard her whisper, "I'm sorry."

I didn't look back.

On the way home, one question kept circling in my mind.

Did Jefferson really save my photo on his phone?

No. That didn't sound right.

He had never taken a picture of me.

The only one he could have saved was from our marriage registration.

The thought made me laugh a little.

Jefferson was efficient in everything he did.

Even when it came to keeping a photo of his ex-wife, he chose the most practical one.

In the second month after the divorce, my belly started to show.

I found a remote part-time job, writing articles for online accounts. The pay wasn't much, but it was enough for the baby and me.

One night, I saw a news report.

It said the CEO of Motley Group, Jefferson, and rising designer Rebecca had been spotted together late at night, possibly confirming their relationship.

The photo showed their backs as they walked into an elevator.

Jefferson wore a black coat. Rebecca held his arm, her head resting on his shoulder.

They looked perfect together.

The comments all said how sweet they were.

I turned off my phone and gently rested my hand on my belly. "Baby, your dad really loves that person."

In the third month after the divorce, my health started to slip.

I went back to the hospital. The doctor looked at the results and said the pregnancy wasn't very stable. I needed bed rest.

"Can the baby be saved?" I asked.

"For now, there's no major problem," the doctor said. "But you need to stay calm. No stress, no overworking."

After I left the hospital, I called my editor and told her I might not be able to write for a while.

She was kind about it. She told me to get some rest and said the articles were not urgent.

I hung up and stood at the hospital entrance, not knowing where to go.

My apartment was on the fifth floor, and there was no elevator. Just thinking about the stairs made me short of breath.

My fridge was empty. I had not had a proper meal in days.

Back at the Motley family house, Mandy handled all the cooking. I never had to think about food.

Those three years had been too easy. I had gotten so used to being taken care of that I forgot how to take care of myself.

I took a taxi to the supermarket and bought some vegetables and fruit.

On the way home, a song came on the radio. It was "When You're Gone" by Avril Lavigne.

"When you're gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you..."

I leaned my head against the window, and before I knew it, tears were running down my face.

It wasn't because I missed Jefferson.

It was because I suddenly realized I barely had the right to cry anymore.

The doctor had told me to keep my emotions steady. So even when I felt sad, I had to hold it in.