Then he turned to glare at me like I had committed some unforgivable crime.
“Happy now? You’ve caused enough trouble!”
He scooped Chloe into his arms and stormed out.
I gritted through the pain, trembling as I said:
“Ethan Miller, if you walk out that door today, we’re finished.”
His steps faltered—but he never turned back.
Clenching my jaw, I pushed myself up. One of his buddies looked guilty.
“Sophia, maybe I should drive you to the hospital. Ethan—”
Before he could finish, I glanced at my bleeding arm and laughed.
Even an outsider cared about me more than my husband did—who had just carried someone else away without a glance back.
I shook my head. “No need. I’ll manage.”
So I limped out, hailed an Uber, and went to the hospital myself.
Every bandage stung, my whole body trembling.
Just then, my phone buzzed with a notification.
It was Chloe’s new social media post:
[Compensation from my champ. Look how happy we are as a family of three!]
In the picture, a Maltese sat in the middle, with Ethan and Chloe smiling behind it.
Yes, they looked just like a family of three.
I gave it a like.
A second later, Ethan called.
“Sophia, what’s that supposed to mean? I just bought Chloe a puppy, why the sarcasm?”
I ignored him. He continued:
“Her clothes got soaked, so I’m taking her home to change. Don’t forget—this was all thanks to you!”
Before I could answer, the call ended with a sharp click.
I let out a bitter laugh and contacted a lawyer about divorce.
But right after I sent the email, the nurse gasped.
“You’re bleeding.”
I looked down and saw a patch of red on my white pants.
The nurse hurried me to a doctor, but the words that followed hit me like a hammer.
“Congratulations—you’re pregnant.”
I froze, instinctively placing a hand on my stomach.
Ever since losing my parents, I had longed for a child of my own.
But why now, of all times…
After much hesitation, I withdrew the email.
I decided to give Ethan one more chance.
And give this baby one too.
By the time I finished at the hospital, it was late at night.
Even before I opened the door, I could hear laughter inside.
Ethan’s face and body were covered in foam.
Strange—this man who once couldn’t stand a drop of oil splattering on him during dinner was now letting Chloe smear him with shaving cream, smiling all the while.
When he saw me, Ethan hurriedly took the razor from her hand.
“Leave this to my wife. You’re clumsy—who’d ever marry you like that?”