Chapter 7

The second week, during the company review, they replaced my PPT with an outdated one, and the numbers for the waist and belly on my sample dress were totally messed up, an entire page was full of errors.

In the conference room, a few executives frowned. "How are we supposed to market a design like this?"

"Maternity dresses are already a tough sell. If we make them like this, we're wasting money," another executive said.

I stood in front of the screen, staring at the messed-up numbers, sweat breaking out on my back.

Lily was in the back, her eyes red and anxious, while Aunt Donna was clutching her fabric bag, knuckles white.

Ryan sat in the partner's seat, tapping his fingers on the table, a smug grin he couldn't hide.

I shot him a look.

He raised his cup at me, a smug grin on his face.

I took a deep breath and grabbed the remote, turning off the presentation.

The conference room went dark for a second, then the lights came back on.

The director frowned. "Olivia, what are you doing?"

I said, "The presentation file was swapped out. I'd like to show the sample dress directly."

Ryan let out a laugh. "A live demo? Ms. Lane, come on, this isn't a flea market."

I ignored him and turned to open the sample bag.

Aunt Donna and I burned the midnight oil for seven nights straight, pouring everything we had into that dress.

The dress was crafted from mist-blue satin, with a hidden, ad able fit at the waist and belly. The hem stayed neat and never dragged, and there was extra support at the shoulders and back, so it never pressed down on the chest.

I asked a colleague from the admin department, who was six months pregnant, to try it on.

She was a little nervous at first, but when she came out in the dress, the whole conference room went quiet.

She held her belly, walked a few steps, sat down, and then stood up again.

"It's not tight at all," she said. "I can adjust it right here, and even when I sit down, nothing digs in."

Aunt Donna pulled up the backup data sheet on the big screen. "This is the correct version."

I opened the paper sample book and spread the pages out across the table.

I said, "We did twenty-seven fittings across three belly sizes and four shoulder-back adjustments. Maternity dresses aren't a cover-up for pregnant women; they're for women who still want to stand at the center of their own lives."

The conference room fell silent.

The director studied the sample dress, his fingers drumming lightly on the table.

Ryan's smirk disappeared.

When the review was over, my proposal was approved to move forward.

When I walked out of the conference room, my legs were practically jelly.

Lily rushed over to hug me, almost bumping into my belly. I instinctively shielded it.

She stopped, her eyes going wide.

I shook my head at her.

Aunt Donna, standing nearby, said, "Don't shout. Watch where you're going."

Lily covered her mouth and nodded frantically.

That night, I got a message.

It was from Chloe.

Chloe: [Are you still clinging to Ethan? He's been showing up at your office a lot lately.]

I stared at the message, my finger hovering over the screen.

I wanted to type back, "Maybe you should worry about your own husband."

But I bit my tongue.

I took a screenshot, saved it, and deleted the chat.

Half an hour later, Ethan called again.

I picked up, but didn't say a word.

I could hear glasses clinking in the background, he was probably at a bar.

"Olivia, you did a good job on the project," Ethan said.

I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Did you swipe my PowerPoint?"

He let out a low chuckle. "Don't make me sound like some kind of scumbag."

"That was Ryan."

"He was trying to help me." Ethan paused. "It's tough for you doing this alone. If you come back, all these problems will be gone."

I looked at the sample dress on the table, the stitches packed tight, every single one had stabbed my fingers.

"Ethan, listen carefully."

"Yeah?"

"You're not my safe haven."

I picked up the scissors and snipped off a loose thread.

"You're the worst trap I should never fall into."

The day of my prenatal checkup, the hospital hallway was thick with the smell of disinfectant. The electronic board kept calling out numbers, and pregnant women sat on blue plastic chairs, supporting their backs with their hands.

I sat alone in a corner, clutching my checkup slip.

Right next to me, a man was peeling an orange for his wife. The juice sprayed out, and the sweet, tangy scent drifted over, making my stomach twist. I got up and headed straight for the restroom.

In the mirror, I looked a lot thinner, my chin sharp, and there were dark circles under my eyes.

I splashed cold water on my face, and the droplets trickled down my jaw and into my collar.

When I came out, I spotted Ethan at the end of the hallway.

He was holding Chloe up, helping her walk.

Chloe was wearing a loose hoodie, holding her checkup slip, and she looked really pale.

Ethan saw me too and stopped in his tracks.

I turned and walked away.

He caught up and blocked my way. "What are you doing here in OB-GYN?"

I folded the slip and stuffed it into my bag. "That's none of your concern."

His gaze dropped to my bag, and he frowned. "Are you feeling sick?"

Chloe came over, her voice sharp. "Ethan, why are you bothering with her? Can't you hear me? My stomach hurts."

Ethan turned to her. " sit down for a bit."

Chloe's eyes welled up with tears. "You always act like this whenever she's around."

I stepped aside, trying to walk past them.