Chapter 1

My birthday happens to be the anniversary of his first love’s death.

The man who always acts so polite and composed in front of others turned into a raging beast, his bloodshot eyes glaring at me as he screamed:

“You wretch! Why wasn’t it you who died back then?”

Later, I suffered a miscarriage, lost my mother, and was left with no one.

I gave him what he wanted—a divorce.

But then, he regretted it.

In the pouring rain, he knelt at my feet, begging me to come back.

I was pregnant.

Clutching the ultrasound report in my hand, I felt no joy—only a heavy, sinking despair.

This child was a mistake.

I walked out of the hospital in a daze, my mind flashing back to that night three months ago.

Three years into our marriage, William Blake and I had lived more like strangers than a couple.

If he hadn’t gotten drunk that night—mumbling the name of his late first love, Sophie Winters—he would never have touched me.

I still remember the way he kissed me so roughly, all while calling out Sophie’s name.

The memory stung, and the sharp ringing in my ears forced me to press my hands against them, trying to block it out. My heart ached so much it felt like it was being torn apart.

My gaze dropped to the report in my hands.

What would William say if he knew I was pregnant? Would he be happy?

I let out a bitter laugh and shook my head.

No. He’d probably hate me even more—for daring to carry a child when his heart was still fixated on someone who was gone.

“Mom, I want that cake!”

“You don’t need cake. We’re having dinner at home!”

The sound of a mother arguing with her child near a bakery caught my attention, and I stopped in my tracks.

Through the glass window, I stared at the rows of beautiful cakes, suddenly remembering that today was my birthday.

I used to look forward to my birthday every year.

I thought back to our first year of marriage. Out of guilt, William had thrown me a grand birthday party.

That night, he stayed until midnight, cutting the cake with me and even singing me a birthday song.

Back then, Sophie was still alive.

Smiling bitterly, I walked into the bakery, bought myself a cake, and carried it home.

At the dining table, I lit the candles on the cake and sat there, waiting for William to return.

But by the time the sun set and the clock struck nine, he still wasn’t home.

Staring at the cake, I reached out and dipped my finger into the frosting, tasting it. It was sweet, but all I could feel was bitterness.

The corner of my mouth twitched into a self-deprecating smile.

Click—

The sound of the door unlocking made me look up.

William walked in, reeking of alcohol. His cheeks were flushed, his white shirt stained with red wine, his hair slightly messy. His eyes were glassy and unfocused.

The moment he saw me, his brows furrowed, and his voice was cold:

“What are you doing here?”

He turned his head and glanced at the cake on the table. His eyes flickered, and I noticed his hands clench into fists.

The wedding ring that should’ve been on his finger was gone.

“Joanna! You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

He stormed toward me, his voice full of anger.

The smell of alcohol was overwhelming, and I instinctively took a step back.

With a wave of his hand, he knocked the cake off the table.

The loud crash startled me, and I froze, staring at the shattered cake on the floor.

It wasn’t just the cake that had been smashed—it felt like my heart had shattered, too.

“You knew today was Sophie’s death anniversary! Why did you buy a cake? What were you trying to prove? And to think you used to be her best friend!”

“You’re so cruel!” he shouted, his voice filled with venom. “She completely misjudged you. I never should’ve married you!”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but his words cut deeper than usual. They were harsher, more honest.

Fighting back tears, I replied calmly, “William, today is my birthday.”

“So what?” His voice was icy, stabbing straight through me. “She’s dead, and you’re still alive.”

“You’ll have countless birthdays, but Sophie will never have another one.”

“It’s all my fault. I should’ve never come back for your stupid birthday last year. I should’ve stayed with her.”

“It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault…”

I let out a hollow laugh as his words echoed in my ears.

All because last year, he’d come home to celebrate my birthday, he hadn’t been able to see Sophie one last time before she died.

She had died on my birthday, of all days.

Clutching my chest as the pain grew unbearable, I placed a hand on my slightly swollen belly, remembering the doctor’s warning:

Don’t get upset. Avoid emotional stress.

But how could I not?

William’s cold eyes bore into me as he sneered:

“Joanna, don’t you dare get your hopes up.”

“A manipulative woman like you? I could never love you. Ever. If you want to celebrate your birthday, do it somewhere else. Get out of my sight.”

With that, he slammed the door and left, leaving me standing there, utterly defeated.

But you know what, William?

I celebrate my birthday every year just so I can see you. All I wanted was to spend a little more time with you.

Taking a deep breath, I looked down at my stomach and whispered to myself:

“Joanna, he’ll never love you. He’ll never love your child…”

“Ma’am, should I clean this up?”

My housekeeper, May, spoke hesitantly, not even daring to breathe too loudly.

I froze for a moment before replying, “Yes, clean it up.”

I tossed the ultrasound report onto the melted frosting.

“And throw this away too.”