Chapter 2

"Mr. Janathan," I replied, my tone deliberately detached, a mask over the tumult inside me.

"Ah," he mumbled, his eyes glued to his phone, absorbed in a world that no longer included me.

With a steely calmness, I opened my phone and began drafting my resignation letter. Each tap of my finger felt like a finality, sealing the fate of a life I had once thought was secure.

It was only when he reached for his water cup, expecting the rich, fragrant coffee I used to brew for him every night, that he finally noticed something was amiss.

The cup sat empty. He paused, confusion flickering across his features, and then his gaze shifted to me—really looked at me, as if he were seeing a ghost materialize in the dim light of our shared misery for the first time in months.

"I consulted a specialist," he said, his tone dripping with nonchalance, as if offering me a peace treaty. "He said it’s just a minor injury, nothing serious."

A minor injury? The words echoed in my head, taunting me.

I turned away, my eyes glued to my phone, fingers trembling as I typed. The resignation letter was nearly finished, each word a stepping stone away from him, from this life, from the wreckage of our love.

"Alright," I replied flatly, refusing to meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his presence suffocating me.

That afternoon, I found myself lying on a cold hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic clinging to the air like an unwanted reminder of my shattered dreams. I was numb and exhausted, the physical pain eclipsed by the emotional turmoil churning within me.

Ten stitches across my abdomen.

But the real pain was something no amount of sutures could fix. I had just found out I was pregnant—a few weeks along, a fragile flicker of life that now felt like a cruel joke.

The doctor’s voice was gentle, heavy with an apology I didn’t want to hear. “If you had been brought to the hospital sooner, the baby might have been saved,” he said, his words slicing through me like a surgeon’s scalpel.

Milton’s brow furrowed as he took in my expression, his concern momentarily breaking through the wall of indifference he had built around himself. But just then, his phone buzzed, an insistent vibration that shattered the fragile moment between us.

He glanced at the screen, a flicker of anxiety crossing his features before he turned away.