I lowered my head, swallowing the bitterness rising in my throat. The sadness pressed down on my chest, but I forced myself to stay silent.

Tristan must have noticed my mood shift because he reached out, as if to comfort me—

But then, Faye suddenly clutched her chest and staggered, her face twisting in pain.

“Tristan… my heart… it hurts… I think my heart disease is flaring up again…” she whimpered, her body collapsing dramatically onto the floor.

Tristan hesitated for only a second.

Even if her exaggerated act was transparent, his reaction was instinctual—without thinking, he rushed to her side, scooped her into his arms, and carried her out.

It was only when I heard the roar of the car engine outside that I realized—he had left.

Without me.

The skies opened up, and heavy rain poured down in sheets, drenching everything in sight. I stood there in the doorway, shivering, my clothes sticking to my skin as I watched his car disappear down the road.

He didn’t look back.

I hadn’t brought an umbrella, and taxis were nowhere to be seen. With no other choice, I started walking.

The road home stretched endlessly before me. The rain blurred my vision, and my body—already weakened by pregnancy—stumbled more than once. I fell hard, my palms scraping against the cold pavement, my knees bruising. But I forced myself to stand and keep going.

By the time I reached home, my whole body was frozen, feverish.

That night, I burned with illness, drifting in and out of consciousness. In my dazed state, I reached for my phone and dialed Tristan’s number.

The call connected, but instead of his voice, I heard a familiar, sweet tone.

“Sister-in-law, are you looking for my brother?” Faye’s voice was laced with feigned innocence, but the smugness underneath was unmistakable. “He’s cooking for me right now. He doesn’t have time to answer the phone.”

I froze.

In the two years we had been married, Tristan had never once cooked for me.

Not even when I was sick. Not even when I was carrying his child.

But for Faye?

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks, but I didn’t bother wiping them away.

I had been foolish. So, so foolish.

I had actually thought that if I got sick in front of Faye, if she saw me weak and vulnerable, it would make Tristan realize my importance.

But the truth was—

I had never been important to him at all.

For two days, Tristan didn’t return home. Not a single call, not even a text.