Chapter 2
I got home, saw the empty house, and knew Lucas was at the hospital with Lydia.
I opened the nursery door and stood, lost in thought, taking in the pink room.
A soft pink crib sat amid baby toys—a pink rattle, a strawberry plushie, all in sweet pink shades.
The closet held pink dresses for baby, from newborn to three years old.
When I found out I was pregnant, I was stunned and unsure how to be a mom.
But Lucas was genuinely thrilled.
One night, I woke and found him at his computer in the study.
The screen's glow softened his features.
He searched "how to care for a pregnant woman" and had a page of notes.
That's when I realized I was going to be a mom.
At first, all my hopes for this baby were because of Lucas.
Because I loved him, I loved the child growing inside me.
As my belly grew, my love for our baby grew stronger.
Meanwhile, Lucas shopped for baby items at every mall.
But he insisted on buying only baby items for girls.
I teased him, "How do you know it's a girl? What if it's a boy?"
He grinned and pressed his face to my belly.
His eyes sparkled with happiness.
He said, "You wouldn't understand. It's a father-daughter thing. I just know she's a girl—a beautiful little girl."
Footsteps snapped me back to reality.
I turned around and saw Lucas walking in.
He looked tired but still helped me onto the couch.
He murmured, "Lena, you shouldn't be on your feet this long. It's not good for the swelling."
When I stayed silent, he added, "Lena, today was unexpected and urgent. Please don't be upset. It's my fault for leaving you at the hospital. I won't do it again."
His eyes were sincere, as if he could keep his promise.
But this wasn't the first time he said that. Lydia always came first to him.
Afterward, he massaged my calves.
I was about to speak when I suddenly smelled his sweet, strong perfume.
It was the rose scent Lydia loved most.
A wave of nausea hit me, and I couldn't help but throw up.
Lucas panicked and grabbed me a trash can. "Are you nauseous again?"
After catching my breath, I tiredly said, "It's not pregnancy nausea. I'm just disgusted."
"What?" he asked, not hearing me.
"It's not pregnancy nausea; your perfume is making me sick," I repeat.
His face fell, looking genuinely hurt.
"Lena, I..." he started.
I interrupted him. "Let's get a divorce."
He paused, then suddenly rushed over and hugged me tightly, his voice shaking.
"Lena, Yyou can't just throw that word around. It hurts. We have a baby now. How can we get divorced? We're supposed to grow old together."
I shoved him away and stared into his eyes. "Lucas, didn't I say if you leave me, it's over? Did you hear me?"
He was flustered, nearly desperate. "It's not what you think..."
I pushed him away. I didn't want to hear his excuses.
Since Lydia returned, he's never chosen me over her.
I entered the bedroom and locked the door.
I ignored Lucas's desperate knocks, tears streaming down my face.
The baby inside me sensed my emotions and kicked restlessly.
I gently rubbed my belly, trying to soothe her.
I'm sorry, baby. Because of me, you'll grow up without a dad.
I never want you to endure what I did—being left behind as your father left for someone else.
That night, I dreamed of those terrifying years and woke up drenched in sweat, shaken.
I jolted awake, haunted by nightmare years worse than death, tears flowing despite my effort to stop them.
Traffickers sold me to a poor village, where an old man bought me as a child bride for his simple son, Tommy Dawson.
From then on, I woke before dawn daily—washing dirty clothes, feeding pigs and their slow son, and working the fields.
They bought a chain to lock me to Tommy.
After chores, I followed him and took the hits when other kids bullied him.
If he came home scratched, they'd punish me twice as much.
Every night, I slept under his bed.
After six months of living together, we grew closer.
I got him to unlock the chain and tried to run, but they caught me at the village edge and dragged me back.
They beat me bloody and broke two sticks on me before they stopped.
They broke my leg too.
If I hadn't been watching their son, they wouldn't have cared if my leg healed.
As punishment for trying to escape, they chained me in the pigsty and starved me for three days.
I was so hungry that pig slop looked delicious—I was ready to eat anything.