Chapter 3

Elena POV

The call didn't end there.

I heard a little girl’s voice leak through the speaker, brightly calling him Daddy.

"Daddy, when are you coming home? Mommy said you're bringing me a new backpack."

Ethan’s voice softened instantly. "I'll be back as soon as I wrap up. Be a good girl, Naya."

The woman on the other end murmured something, and he chuckled low in his throat.

I stood behind the door, making no sound, keeping my breathing completely level.

All these years, he told me my body was too weak to carry a child. He told me not to dwell on it, saying a lifetime of just the two of us was more than enough.

And I believed him.

The fourteen hundred doses of bitter tonic he personally prepared, I drank every single drop without flinching, even when the bitterness numbed my tongue, because I thought he just wanted to keep me alive.

I had even felt guilty, believing I took up the title of Mrs. Miller without ever giving him an heir, eating that annual birthday cake with a heavy conscience.

The phrase he always kept on his lips—that my body couldn't handle carrying a baby—really just meant he didn't want a child born from me.

For that little girl outside, Naya, he remembered every detail about a backpack. And when she called him Daddy, his answers were sweet and gentle.

All those years of guilt had been entirely wasted.

I leaned against the doorframe for a long time, my nails digging into the wood, unable to squeeze out a single tear.

When he finally came to bed, he rolled over toward me and rested his hand on my waist.

Noticing I hadn't moved, he asked, "What is it? Not feeling well again?"

"Just exhausted today. Go to sleep first." I shifted back slightly.

He didn't push. He withdrew his hand and, following his nightly ritual of eight years, pulled the light throw blanket up over my shoulders, tucking it in tight, then smoothed down the corners of the duvet.

He leaned close to my ear. "I’ll stay right by your side during the gala. Wherever you want to sit, I'll save it for you. If you get tired, just lean on me."

"Okay," I whispered, facing away from him.

The blanket pressed against my shoulders, so warm it sent a cold shiver down my spine.

That very hand had comforted another woman and child earlier tonight, and now it returned, smoothing my blanket with effortless routine.

I used to count that nightly gesture as proof of his love, night after night.

Tonight, I saw it clearly: it was merely a checklist item he had to complete, an obligation that freed his mind to drift toward the other side.

Late into the night, Ethan's breathing evened out beside me.

I slipped out of bed without turning on the lights.

Walking into the study, I slipped the signed divorce decree into a thick manila envelope and neatly wrote out the mailing address for the front desk at Miller Group.

Then, pulling out my phone, I dialed the private clinic number I had saved earlier.

"The morning after the gala, please schedule me for another prenatal checkup."

As I pressed the stamp onto the envelope, my fingertips were completely steady.

When it was done, I went back to bed. The man beside me rolled over in his sleep, his hand brushing against the edge of my blanket.

I didn't flinch away. I kept my eyes open, watching the pale horizon outside the window.

I wouldn't make a scene. I would just wait for the gala to end.

The next morning, before heading out, he took an old watch from the drawer and strapped it onto his wrist.

I had spent hours picking out the strap for that watch years ago, and I had always treated it as something that belonged strictly to us.

Holding a glass of water, I walked over, let my hand slip, and knocked the glass against his wrist, chipping the glass face of the watch.

"I'm sorry. It's cracked now, so don't wear it out. Put on a different one," I said, glancing down.

"Isn't this the strap you picked out for me? I can still wear it," he said, checking the damage.

"It looks sloppy with a crack. Put on a new one. You have meetings today, don't give people an excuse to whisper," I answered.

He took the watch off, set it aside, pulled another one from the drawer, and kissed my forehead before leaving.

He didn't even ask why I was so insistent on him switching it.

Standing by the door, I listened to his car drive away. The faint warmth lingered on my forehead, and I wiped it off with the back of my hand.

I refused to let that watch leave this house because nothing I chose belonged in that other home of his.

I hadn't kept much for myself over my lifetime. Piece by piece, I was taking it all back.

Without alerting anyone, I went downstairs, hailed a cab, and followed his car across half the city.

I wanted to see what kind of life they lived.

The car drove through the familiar streets before turning into a new development across town, finally stopping in front of a modern residential complex.

The windows of an apartment on the third floor were glowing with warm light.

I stared through the taxi window for a long time, until my eyes stung.

All these years, I needed him by my side wherever I went, needing his arm just to walk into a banquet. I thought that was what being husband and wife meant.

Today, I trailed his car across half the city all on my own. He didn't know, and no one asked where I had gone.

It turned out I was entirely capable of coming this far by myself.

"Turn around, please," I told the driver.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, wisely keeping his mouth shut.