Chapter 2

The anesthesia pulled me under, and my consciousness grew hazy.

When I pried my eyes open, it was over. A dull ache throbbed deep within me. Still groggy, I forced myself up and stumbled out of the maternity ward.

A nurse urged me to stay for observation, but I couldn't bear another moment in that place.

Every minute felt like a fresh laceration on my already shattered soul.

I was shuffling toward the nurses' station to finalize my discharge when a familiar voice sliced through the hallway air, coming from the open door of the dermatology clinic next door.

"Don't you worry. The laser treatment for those sunspots is nothing. You'll be healed in a week, and your skin will be flawless."

It was Ryan's voice, laced with a tenderness I had never heard.

Instinctively, I flinched back, pressing myself flat against the cold wall, just around the corner from their view.

The door was slightly ajar. Through the gap, I saw Emily perched in the treatment chair, while Ryan stood over her, meticulously applying some kind of cream to her cheek.

"But, Ryan, it's so expensive," Emily simpered, her voice a masterclass in feigned concern. "Two thousand dollars for one session?"

A bitter taste filled my mouth. Since when did Emily care about money? She always splurged on designer bags and clothes without a second thought.

In her own words, it was an investment—a calculated move to land a wealthy husband.

And yes, her investment had paid off. She had landed a wealthy man. My husband.

Ryan affectionately booped her nose, his expression one of utter adoration.

"Nothing is too expensive for you. We'll get the platinum package next time," he murmured.

"You mentioned your skin was feeling dull, so I did all the research myself. This place has the best reviews in the city," he continued.

"Ryan, you're so good to me," Emily cooed in a sugary voice. "Are you this nice to Sophie?"

"Sophie?" His voice turned dismissive. "She doesn't hold a candle to you. Remember that cold you had last month? I was worried sick. I mean it, from now on, if you so much as sniffle, you tell me immediately."

I sagged against the wall, the world tilting.

My mind drifted back to the severe cold I had last year.

My fever spiked to 102°F. I begged Ryan to take me to the hospital. He'd just frowned. "I can't stand the smell of hospitals," he said. "Take a cab by yourself."

That night, I sat alone in the hospital, an IV drip in my arm. A nurse came by and asked, "Where's your family? Is no one here with you?"

I managed a weak smile and said, "He's swamped with work."

The IV antibiotics continued for three days. He never visited. Never called. Never texted.

But now, for Emily's minor skin complaint, he'd become a dedicated researcher and a doting escort to the hospital for the most expensive treatment.

Suddenly, a vicious, cramping pain seized my lower abdomen.

I doubled over, a cold sweat beading on my forehead.

The nurse's post-op instructions echoed in my mind: Rest. Avoid strain.

But in that moment, my only thought was escape.

Using the wall for support, I shuffled, step by painful step, toward the elevator.

From behind me, the sound of Emily's coquettish laughter and Ryan's low, doting responses followed me, each one a shard of glass grinding into my raw nerves.

*****

A few days later, it was New Year's Eve.

To my surprise, Ryan decided to join me for dinner at my parents' place.

Emily, who had been orphaned young and had spent every holiday with our family, was there too, as usual.

My parents were beaming, delighted to have the whole family together.

"Emily, could you give me a hand with the salad?" my mother called from the kitchen.

Emily rose, arranging a convincingly regretful expression on her face. "Oh, I'd love to, but I just had a laser treatment. I mustn't get my hands wet at all."

"Don't worry, I'll handle it," Ryan said, immediately setting his phone down and heading toward the kitchen.

The ease of it sent a bitter memory flooding back to my first trimester. The doctor had warned me to be exceptionally careful in those early weeks.

And yet, I was left to brew every dose of my herbal tonics alone. Ryan wouldn't so much as step into the kitchen for me.

And now, to keep Emily's precious hands dry, he'd volunteer to help without a second thought.

I clenched my fists so hard I could feel my nails biting into my palms.