Five months into my pregnancy, my husband Kenneth Fernsby had missed four consecutive prenatal appointments for the sake of his precious first love, Shannon Rowe.

And now, the fifth time—he stood me up again.

His voice was laced with cold irritation over the phone. "The kid isn't just my responsibility. Can't you handle this alone as the mother? Will it die without me?"

I didn't respond. My gaze was fixed on the hospital lobby screen showing footage of him smiling tenderly at Shannon.

A soft hum was all I could manage.

Kenneth sensed something off, but I hung up before he could probe further.

A nurse approached after gossiping about Kenneth's extravagant fireworks display for Shannon.

"Ms. Parker, prenatal exams are this way—"

I shook my head. My voice stayed flat. "Cancel my appointments. Schedule an abortion for next week."

Later, Kenneth found me sitting dazed by the roadside.

On the giant screen across the commercial plaza, a video of Kenneth and Shannon was playing.

The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the fireworks, appearing like a loving couple.

Kenneth suddenly blocked my view with his cold expression and yanked me to my feet.

"What the hell are you doing sitting out here at night? So I missed your appointment—big deal! Why can't you just be more reasonable for once?"

I froze slightly. Over the past two years of our marriage, the phrase I had heard the most was "be reasonable."

Wanting to see his phone? I was being unreasonable.

Do you want to go with him to public events? Still unreasonable.

Even asking him to come to a prenatal checkup—he called that unreasonable too.

In the past, I would've groveled with apologies.

But now, staring at my swollen belly, I was done being reasonable.

When I brushed past him silently, Kenneth snapped.

"What exactly are you trying to do?"

"The photo studio."

Kenneth froze when he heard that.

The only two things I had ever asked of him were to accompany me to prenatal checkups and take maternity photos.

Yet, he hadn't remembered either.

Guilt flickered across his face as he drove us to the photo studio.

"I've been... distracted lately. Cut me some slack."

I almost laughed—he had an excellent memory.

He remembered Shannon's birthday, her favorite snacks, and even the release dates of each of her works.

There were dozens—maybe hundreds—of them.

His amnesia only applied to me.

While I was lost in thought, he drove us to the destination.

As I looked up, my blood turned to ice. It was Shannon's studio.

I'd known since she returned to New York that Kenneth had handpicked this location for her.

Decade Romance—the shop name memorialized their ten-year love story.

They were childhood sweethearts separated when Shannon chased her European dreams.

In a fit of frustration, Kenneth married me. But two years into our marriage, Shannon came back.

After one rain-soaked encounter, Kenneth forgave her—and the two resumed their old love story in full view of the world.

Overnight, I became the third wheel.

But this half-cooked marriage... I no longer wanted to swallow it down.

My hand clenched tightly around the car door, but before I could refuse, Kenneth had already pulled me inside.

Shannon immediately came forward to greet us. She had an elegant figure, her long black hair tied into a casual bun, which was both graceful and effortlessly chic.

Compared to my haggard face and swollen limbs, we were like heaven and earth.

The assistant, who clearly had seen Kenneth often, grinned and said, "Here to see Shannon again? You're basically her boyfriend at this point."

Kenneth stiffened, shooting me a panicked glance.

Shannon let out a soft "ah" and turned to scold the assistant, "Don't talk nonsense. This is his wife."

She then turned to smile at me. "Don't mind her. She's young and speaks without thinking."

After that, she began showing me dresses.

Throughout it all, I remained indifferent. Shannon glanced at me several times, and when she saw that I wasn't giving her the reaction she wanted to see, the corner of her mouth curled in subtle mockery.

My eyes settled on a long gown in front of me. It was pearl white—serene and elegant.

Just as I was about to try it on, Kenneth reached out and stopped me.

He said in a low voice, "Pick another one."

I frowned, about to ask why—until I spotted the framed photo on the wall.

Kenneth and Shannon were in the photo. Shannon was wearing that exact gown.

Nausea rose like bile. I grabbed a different dress.

As I slipped into the changing room, a stylist giggled. "Shannon, they say imitation is flattery... until you see who's wearing it!"

Shannon's chuckle wasn't gracious. It reeked of contempt.

I couldn't care less.

After I got changed, I took a seat on the chair.

Kenneth walked up to me and put his hand gently around my shoulders.

Just as the shutter was about to go off, Shannon suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed to the floor.

"Kenneth, it hurts..."

The hand on my shoulder vanished in an instant. Kenneth rushed over in a panic.

He scooped her up in his arms and hurried out—without even sparing me a glance.

The assistant looked at me with a tinge of pity.

But I sat up straight and said with a calm smile, "Let's continue the shoot."

The assistant was momentarily stunned, then pouted and resumed taking pictures.

Afterward, I left feeling content.

These photos would memorialize just me and our child. Kenneth's presence was always optional anyway.

When I stepped outside, I realized the wind had picked up. I found a nearby hotel to stay the night.

But not long after lying down, my phone buzzed repeatedly.

It was Kenneth calling. I ignored it. After three calls, it finally stopped.

Just as I was drifting off into a light sleep, a message arrived.

I opened it. It was a photo of Shannon lying in Kenneth's arms. She was even wearing my sleepwear.

Five seconds later, the image disappeared.

"Oops, wrong person!"

I knew full well it was intentional. But I wasn't angry at all. I turned off my phone and went right back to sleep.

The next morning, I took a cab home.

When I opened the door, I was shocked to find a party going on inside.

Kenneth was frowning at his phone. When he heard the door, he looked up—and our eyes met.

His expression instantly softened, though his tone still carried that hint of rebuke.

"So you do remember to come home."

I replied indifferently, "It was windy last night. I stayed at a hotel."

Right after I said that I braced for his anger.

But unexpectedly, he simply gave a calm "Mm" and said, "I know. I saw your phone's location. But next time you're staying out, at least tell me."

My hands froze mid-motion as I was removing my coat. I looked at him in disbelief.

"When did you install a tracker on my phone?"

"It's for your safety," he said plainly.

He didn't elaborate and turned to introduce me to the people in the house.

They were all his friends—people I hadn't seen since our wedding.

On the other hand, Shannon seemed far more familiar with them than I was. She took on the role of hostess and cheerfully introduced everyone to me.

"This is Connor Forgeron. His soup is absolutely amazing!

"This is Aston James—he's an artist!

"This is Anthony Angelo. He's kind of cute, but loves to mess with people!"

The moment she finished, they all burst into laughter.

Connor feigned displeasure and teased, "Shannon's playing favorites—bringing in personal bias!"

Shannon puffed up her cheeks and playfully pounced on them, blending right in with the group. She never once looked me in the eye, let alone greeted me.

I didn't mind. They'd all grown up together—I never expected to force my way in.

Kenneth gazed at Shannon dotingly, smiling quietly to himself.

I turned toward the bedroom, but just as I spun around, something in the trash bin caught my eye—and my body went rigid.

Step by step, I walked over, each movement feeling like it weighed a ton. Inside the trash, I saw them—pickled vegetables my mother had made for me before she passed.

My mind went blank, a loud buzz in my ears. My blood felt like it was rushing backward.

My mother's passing had come so suddenly. That jar of pickled vegetables had been the last thing she made for me.

It had taken her a whole week to prepare. I hadn't had the heart to throw it away.

But now, seeing it mixed in with the trash...

Tears poured from my eyes like a broken dam. My voice trembled as I asked, "Who threw this away?"

Back in the living room, the laughter and chatter continued. Not a single person noticed my voice.

It wasn't until I repeated myself three times that they finally heard me.

The room instantly fell silent. Everyone looked at each other awkwardly, the air thick with tension.

"Kenneth raised his hand and gently pressed it on my shoulder, lowering his voice.

"Shannon threw it out. She said it had bacteria. She was just thinking of your well-being."

Thinking of me? He knew perfectly well that it was something my mother had left behind.

I wasn't going to eat it, and I certainly didn't ask Shannon to. So who gave her the right to throw it away?

Then again, he was always quick to lecture me, never to offer the respect I deserved.

Let alone care about the things I cared about.

Tears streamed down my face, one after another. Kenneth was stunned for a moment and reached out, trying to touch my cheek.

I slapped his hand away.

Just then, Shannon let out a shrill cry.

She stepped in front of Kenneth, her face full of righteous fury.

"Regina, I was the one who threw out the pickles. If you've got a problem, come at me."

Connor wasn't pleased either. He muttered, "It's just a jar of lousy pickles. Is it really worth making everyone upset over this?"

Anthony's face immediately darkened with irritation. "Shannon studied biology. She knows better than her, doesn't she? Biting the hand that feeds you—doesn't even recognize kindness."

Everything they said stood in support of Shannon. To them, I was just being petty and unreasonable.

They even looked at Kenneth with sympathy, as if to say, "How did you end up marrying someone like this?"

But I didn't care. I didn't care about any of it. I only cared about the pickles my mom made for me.

Tears hit the floor like raindrops as I knelt down, reaching into the trash to retrieve them.

Kenneth panicked and tried to pull me up. "What are you doing? You're pregnant!"

Shannon's eyes flickered. She rushed over to kneel beside me and reached in too, her voice choked with tears. "It's my fault. Let me help you get them back."

But despite her seemingly sincere words, her fingertips jabbed harshly into the back of my hand.

The pain made me flinch. I instinctively shoved her away.

She fell backward, looking disheveled and pitiful, her face streaked with tears.

In the next second, everyone in the living room rushed to her side, shielding her like a human wall and staring at me with hostility.

Kenneth snapped at me, voice full of anger. "Regina! What is wrong with you?!"

I said nothing. I simply continued pulling the pickles out of the trash, piece by piece.

Kenneth's expression turned stormy. He grabbed me by the arm as if to seek justice for Shannon.

"Regina, apologize!"

I stared at him calmly, refusing to back down even a little.

This wasn't the first time Kenneth twisted the truth. In the past, I had been too timid—afraid to worry my mother—so I endured it all.

But now, my only family was gone. I no longer wanted to tolerate anything.

"Kenneth, let's get a divorce."

The moment those words left my mouth, Kenneth's face instantly darkened.

We'd argued and fought in our two years of marriage, but I had never once mentioned divorce.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Shannon cut in with a soft, delicate tone.

"Regina, as a woman, let me give you some advice. Don't try to play hard to get. Your belly's already showing—do you really think you'll go through with a divorce? What are you going to do, abort the baby?"

Her words were like a stone thrown into a still lake, stirring up waves of judgment. Kenneth hated being threatened more than anything.

He stared at me, his voice filled with disappointment. "Regina, you've been spoiled. Reflect on your behavior at home."

With that, he grabbed Shannon and stormed out the door.

Within seconds, the entire house fell silent. I was the only one left.

I gathered up the pickles and heard my phone buzz.

It was a text reminder from the hospital—my appointment was in five days.

I quietly went back to my room, packed my documents and necessities, and waited for that day to come.

But the next day, my friend called in a panic.

"Regina, turn on the news—now!"

I opened a media app, and right at the top was a paparazzi photo of Kenneth.

He and Shannon were walking hand-in-hand on the beach, looking like a blissful couple. Shannon's face glowed with happiness—and on her waist, she had tattooed Kenneth's name.

The media also noticed that the wedding ring Kenneth had worn for two years had disappeared.

Naturally, speculation about the state of our marriage exploded.

The media spun a lavish fairytale about Kenneth and Shannon's "epic love story."

Old fans resurrected like zombies, flooding my social media.

"I heard you're the homewrecker who split them up. How pathetic."

"You're pregnant, right? I hope you miscarry. Don't give birth to the baby, or you'll ruin Shannon's happiness."

"He clearly doesn't love you. No matter how hard you try, it's useless. Let this poor couple be."

The public backlash grew worse by the day, dominating the headlines for three full days.

There's no way Kenneth didn't know what kind of mess I was caught in—but he did nothing.

I knew he was waiting for me to cave in. In our relationship, he had always held the upper hand.

He controlled what I wore and what I ate, and he even tracked my movements.

The tenderness and patience were all reserved for Shannon. What he had left for me was nothing but cold dominance.

He was proving that he could live happily without me.

And without him, I was nothing.

He wanted me to break down again, apologize tearfully like I always did, and curl up in his arms like a canary with clipped wings.

But I didn't want to anymore.

So on the fourth day, Kenneth came back.

That day, it poured. He was soaked, and I didn't know how long he had been standing in the rain.

He looked at me with an expression full of turmoil—he looked both sad and wronged.

As he took a step toward me, he seemed to remember how cold and wet he was and quickly stripped off his coat.

Then, he pulled me into his arms, and his muffled voice sounded from above.

"I made the prenatal check-up appointment. This time, I'll definitely go with you.

"I've thought it over. What happened with the pickled vegetables... it was wrong of us. I should've stopped her.

"The scandal was unexpected. I've already asked the company to intervene. No one will badmouth you again."

Kenneth stared at me, clearly hoping I'd take the olive branch like before.

This was his tactic—hit you with one hand, soothe you with the other.

But I knew as long as Shannon was in the picture, the one he would always sacrifice was me.

I was tired of fighting over a man.

I said nothing and quietly returned to the bedroom.

Kenneth tried to follow me in, but his phone rang—it was Shannon's special ringtone.

He stared at the screen for a long time, veins bulging on the back of his hand, but he didn't pick up.

After showering, he climbed into bed and pulled me close.

In a low murmur, he said, "There's nothing between her and me anymore. Don't overthink it."

I turned to look at the hand around my waist—his wedding ring was on it again.

But I knew... things could never go back to the way they were.

The next morning was the day of my abortion.

Coincidentally, Kenneth had scheduled a prenatal visit—his first time ever accompanying me.

The usually composed Mr. Fernsby fussed like an overeager teenager, triple-checking the hospital bag.

I watched him, just about to tell him my decision, when his phone chimed sharply.

Kenneth instinctively opened it, and the color instantly drained from his face.

The device clattered to the floor, a screen displaying a bloodied wrist.

Kenneth snatched the phone up and bolted.

"Wait—"

Before I could finish, he looked at me pleadingly and said, "Just this once, the last time. Shannon's losing it—I can't just let her die!"

I smiled, took the documents from his hand, and said calmly, "Go ahead. I just wanted my things back."

Kenneth froze for a moment but didn't have time to think—he turned and ran out the door.

Halfway out, maybe thinking back to how I'd been acting the past few days, panic suddenly set in.

He ran back and crushed me in a desperate hug.

He comforted me softly, "Wait for me at the hospital. I'll definitely be there."

With that, he turned and left without hesitation.

I looked away and took a cab to the hospital.

As I was wheeled into the operating room, I finally let out a long breath.

As the anesthesia spread through my body, my eyelids slowly, heavily, began to fall.

At the same time, Kenneth—who had rushed over to Shannon's house—lost his temper for the very first time.

He couldn't believe that Shannon had faked a suicide attempt just to trick him.

The feeling of being fooled instantly dragged him back to the past.

Although they had dated for years, Shannon was always self-centered and impulsive, doing plenty of foolish things on a whim.

Whenever someone new and exciting came along, she'd start flirting with that person. And when she said she was going overseas to pursue her dreams, she ended their relationship without hesitation.

When he was younger, Kenneth had tolerated it. But now, nearing 30, he no longer had the time or patience for this kind of melodramatic love.

Seeing Kenneth silently heading toward the door, Shannon giggled and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

She pouted and said, "Well, you ignored all my calls. I cried so much my eyes are all swollen."

Her voice was soft and coy, clearly waiting for him to turn around and comfort her.

But the next second, Kenneth shoved her off violently.

The look he gave her was filled with undisguised disgust.

Shannon's heart clenched. She had never seen that kind of expression in Kenneth's eyes before.

She suddenly felt a little aggrieved. "I was just joking, why are you like this? Did Regina say something bad about me?

"I've already given you up to her! What more does she want? Does she want me dead too?!"

Kenneth felt a sharp pain in his skull. His temples were throbbing, and his chest was pounding.

"When did she say anything bad about you? She hasn't said a single word!"

Not only had Regina said nothing, but she had even graciously let him leave to come here—but Shannon still made malicious assumptions.

For the first time, he felt sorry for Regina—and he deeply understood how good she truly was.

She never spoke ill of others behind their backs. She wasn't selfish like Shannon.

How quiet and calm Regina was. How little she demanded.

Even when she got upset, she was easy to coax.

Kenneth didn't want to waste another word on Shannon. Just as he turned to leave, she threw herself at him again.

"Why did you leave without a word? Why have you been ignoring me these past few days?!"

Shannon choked through her tears, lashing out like a spoiled child who didn't get her candy.

Kenneth sneered coldly and slowly pushed her away.

"Why? Wasn't that scandal you and I made public arranged by you and the reporters?"

Shannon froze on the spot, her eyes wide in fear.

"W-What? Of course not... It wasn't me!"

She scrambled to explain, flustered and panicked—but Kenneth threw the evidence he had prepared right in her face.

"I've already seen your transfer records. Still going to deny it?"

He gave a scornful laugh. "Didn't you say you just wanted to be friends again? Then why use such cheap tricks? You even hired online trolls to harass Regina. It's lucky she isn't someone who gets worked up easily. But if anything happens to the baby, I won't forgive you!"

Shannon's face flushed red, her teeth chattering in fury. Tears streamed down like broken pearls.

But Kenneth showed not the slightest sympathy. He turned away coldly and headed straight for the hospital.

On the way, he called three times in a row, but none of them were answered.

So he turned on the tracking app with ease and found that Regina was indeed in the hospital.

But instead of feeling reassured, his unease only grew.

Racing with a pounding heart, Kenneth sped to the hospital.

But when he arrived, he didn't see any sign of Regina.

His anxiety worsened. He stopped a passing nurse and quickly asked, "Excuse me, have you seen a pregnant woman named Regina Parker?"

The nurse paused, flipped open the chart in her hand, and after a few seconds, replied, "Regina Parker is in surgery right now."

"Surgery?"

Kenneth's expression went blank in an instant.

He repeated the words with deliberate emphasis as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Regina Parker is in surgery?"

The nurse, trying to hide her impatience, nodded. "Yes, she's undergoing an abortion. She should be coming out any minute now."

As soon as the words left her mouth, the operating room doors swung open...