Chapter 3

My family moved to a smaller two-room apartment in the suburbs. Mom and Dad were no longer busy all the time. Instead, they opened a small clinic.

It was only after growing up that I realized the change had come because Dad's business had failed, and we couldn't afford to live there anymore.

The envelope's contents pointed to one thing—Ian's father, James Sadler, had caused all this. I couldn't imagine how Mom and Dad would react if I were to bring Ian home one day and introduce him as James' son.

I knew nothing about trickery in the business world, but years of reading romance novels taught me that the Sadlers were my parents' sworn enemies.

My head spun when I got up from the couch, probably because I'd been seated for too long. My abdomen hurt a little, too. I checked the date and realized my period was coming soon.

Ian was away from home; I didn't know when he would return.

I packed my things and hired a moving company to send them and me home. Once I arrived home, I lazed around while waiting for graduation day to come. I also took the opportunity to cure my heartbreak.

I texted Ian on WhatsApp. "Let's break up, Ian. Don't come to me or my dormmates. I just don't want to continue anymore—think of me as a jerk. I don't want to see you anymore. I wish you well."

Then, I blocked him everywhere without waiting for a reply. After that, I texted everyone in my dormitory's group chat and told them Ian and I had broken up.

My graduation dissertation went smoothly, but I didn't eat and sleep well in the two weeks leading up to it. So, I lost a lot of weight.

Mom thought I was stressed because of my dissertation and kept encouraging me. She also cooked various delicious dishes for me. I was the only one who knew my period was over a week late.

This made me anxious. I ran to a pharmacy several miles away from home to buy a pregnancy test. To be safe, I bought one test from each brand.

As I sat on the toilet bowl and stared at the pregnancy tests before me, all showing positive results, I was stunned.

Why had something as stereotypical as getting pregnant after a breakup happened to me?

Still, I decided to take the honest route. That night, I told my parents about the pregnancy. Before doing so, I asked Sasha and her family to join us at home.

When they entered the house, my three-year-old niece, Natalie Johnson, ran to me and rubbed my belly. She said happily, "There's a little boy in here, Aunt Sadie!"

I was taken aback, as were my parents and Sasha. Children had the sharpest instincts.

Sasha was the first to snap to her senses. She asked, "Did Nat just say you're pregnant, Sadie?"

Everyone's eyes landed on the pregnancy tests that I laid before them. No one said anything.

Dad was the first to break the silence. His lips trembled with rage as he snapped, "Where's the little bastard? Does he know about this? Are you two going to marry?"

"We broke up on the day I came home," I answered.

He was so angry that he had to pinch himself to keep from fainting. Fortunately, I was allowed to keep the child after pleading desperately.

Because of the accidental pregnancy, I didn't sign up for an internship with any hospitals. Instead, I followed in Sasha's footsteps and started working at our family clinic.

After 20 years, we'd gone from living in the suburbs to being closer to the city center. The clinic had also gone from being less than 500 square feet to having two stories. We had almost ten doctors on the roster; we were more like a small private hospital than a clinic.

We had a family of doctors, so I was well cared for throughout my pregnancy.

Still, accidents would always happen. For instance, the premature rupture of the membrane led to me going into labor earlier than expected.