Chapter 3

It was a sunny day when I left home, driving toward Claire’s boutique.

Outside her store, two perfect rows of extravagant flower stands lined the entrance, each adorned with bright, colorful ribbons glinting under the sunlight. They were Ethan Williams’ grand display for her—a gesture impossible to miss.

Ethan stood beside Claire, holding a little girl in his arms. The way they laughed together, so carefree, they could easily be mistaken for a family.

I walked closer. Claire caught sight of me, and for a brief moment, a flicker of unease crossed her face. Then, she gently took the girl from Ethan’s arms and spoke softly:

“Sweetheart, don’t cling to Ethan like that. Come to Mommy now.”

She glanced at me, her voice warm and deliberate. “This is Mrs. Williams. Say hello to her.”

“Mrs. Williams!”

The little girl’s voice was bright and sweet, like a crisp apple freshly bitten into.

I smiled and nodded, but before I could respond, Claire added casually, as if by accident, “You’ve been married for years now. Still no plans to have kids?”

Her words landed like a blade, sharp and cutting. My face paled at the memory of what I’d lost, while Ethan’s expression darkened, guilt flashing briefly in his eyes.

It happened early in our marriage.

I had just found out I was pregnant. But when I told Ethan, he didn’t look excited or happy. Instead, he frowned, his voice cold and detached as he said:

“A child will only complicate things between us. Our relationship is already unstable. I think it’s better if we don’t have this baby.”

He said this barely an hour after Claire had posted an emotional breakup message on social media. His precious first love was single again, and Ethan wanted to leave himself a way back to her.

In his eyes, our child was an obstacle. Something to be discarded without hesitation.

The doctor warned me that terminating the pregnancy could leave lasting damage. My body was too weak, they said. If I went through with it, I might never be able to conceive again.

But Ethan didn’t care. “You’re still young,” he said dismissively. “You look perfectly healthy to me. If something goes wrong, I’ll pay for the best doctors to fix it.”

He made the decision as casually as if he were choosing a restaurant for dinner.

But bad food can be replaced. A wrecked body cannot.

That day, lying on the hospital bed beneath the blinding fluorescent lights, I felt my first pang of regret for marrying Ethan Williams. Tears streamed down my face as I stared blankly at the ceiling, the weight of his words crushing me.

Later, Ethan came into the room holding a massive bouquet of lilies, their cloying sweetness filling the air. He wiped my tears away and spoke gently, his tone almost tender:

“Zoe, don’t be sad. We can always have another child.”

A slap in the face, followed by a sugar-coated lie. It was his favorite tactic.

Through blurry eyes, I stared at him. For a fleeting moment, his face resembled someone else’s—someone who would have known I hated lilies and loved baby’s breath instead.

But I swallowed the words I wanted to say. I didn’t ask for a divorce.

Claire eventually got married, and the Williams family began pressuring Ethan to have a child. Suddenly, he wanted one too.

But the doctor’s warning turned out to be true. I never got pregnant again.

Ethan, ever the master of appearances, brushed it off when people asked. “Zoe’s health isn’t great,” he’d say with a sympathetic smile. “We’re just not planning for kids right now.”

It was a convenient excuse, one that painted him as a caring husband while subtly shifting the blame onto me.

What he never mentioned, of course, was the real reason—the child he’d forced me to lose, all for the sake of leaving the door open for Claire. A truth that would tarnish the perfect image of Ethan Williams, the golden boy of the Williams family.

But to me, he was nothing more than a coward. Selfish, spineless, and cruel.

Claire, however, wasn’t about to let the matter drop.

“I didn’t realize Zoe’s health was so bad,” she said, covering her mouth in mock concern. “I guess I shouldn’t complain. I thought my body was weak too, but I had no trouble carrying my daughter. From pregnancy to delivery, everything went so smoothly.”

Her words dripped with false sympathy, but the implication was clear: There must be something wrong with you.

I didn’t take the bait. I hadn’t come here to trade petty insults with her.

Instead, I turned and walked toward the flower stand I had sent, intending to take it back.

But as I reached for it, a sharp, searing pain shot through my stomach. It felt like a thousand knives twisting inside me. My body trembled as I clutched my abdomen, struggling to stay upright.

Before I could react, Ethan was at my side, grabbing my empty hand.