While I was five months pregnant, my husband, Randall Harris, accompanied his assistant to the hospital for an IV drip. He even posted a selfie with her on social media. I called him, and he lied straight to my face, saying he was stuck in a meeting at the office. When I confronted him, he fought with me, gave me the cold shoulder, and then went straight back to his assistant for comfort. “Are you sure you don’t want to notify the baby’s father? The surgeon asked me. “After this surgery, you won’t ever be able to have children again.” I closed my eyes. “He’s dead to me.”
View More“I let you down.”I nodded, not denying it. “Sign the papers. We’re adults. No need to make this uglier than it already is.” Randall slid the divorce agreement across the table. “I’ve made some changes. The house, the car, the shares in the company are all yours. I don’t want anything.” He chuckled bitterly. “When you’re the one who screwed up, you don’t get to make demands.” Without hesitation, I signed my name. I didn’t worry about Randall ending up on the streets. Why waste concern on someone unworthy of it? After all, I’m a tough, no-nonsense woman. “See you in court next Monday at 9 a.m.”…On the way home, I spotted Macy looking worse for wear. Ever since Randall kicked her out of Harrison and blacklisted her in the industry, Macy had struggled to find a foothold. She’d once been Randall’s favorite, parachuted into a senior assistant role. Now, with no skills or education to back her up, life had turned harsh. An older woman was berating Macy. “You’ve been he
Randall had always thrived under the adoration of fresh, innocent eyes—girls too young to see the cracks in his facade. However, I had been there through his darkest days. Looking at me was like looking into a mirror he didn’t want to face. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to divorce me. To Randall, I and the child we lost were still his "real" family. Macy was just a distraction. He thought he’d hidden his feelings well, but he didn’t know Macy’s plans. Randall’s logic was simple. As long as I didn’t cry or rage, I would eventually forgive him.“Why should I? How can I forget, as if nothing happened?”I didn’t want to argue with him about the future.“Randall,” I said, “You disgust me.” It was pathetic. Love had once made us believe we were each other’s whole world. We’d whispered sweet nothings and dreamed big. Now, all we had left were bitter words and venomous accusations. Perhaps this was how love ended.It always ended this way. …Two months later, my healt
"Now that I don’t love you anymore, you’re suddenly clinging to me. Aren’t you pathetic, Randall?" No matter how much I lashed out, Randall didn’t resist. He only looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Since I’d been discharged from the hospital, he’d been watching me with that same unreadable gaze. There was sorrow in his eyes, but also something deeper, something I couldn’t or didn’t want to understand. It was the same way he used to look at me when I fought tooth and nail against Macy’s intrusion into our lives. He would say, “Nara, there’s nothing between me and Macy.”However, his actions told a different story, allowing her to cross lines. Every time, it felt like a knife twisting in my chest. My hands came down on his face, again and again. "Stop looking at me like that, Randall. If you don’t, don’t blame me if I gouge your eyes out in your sleep." Finally, Randall got the hint and moved out. He didn’t stay gone. Every day, he was there. Someti
"You’re always like this, Nara. Always so cold and overbearing."You’re crazy." … The words hit like a slap, and even Randall seemed shocked by what he’d said. Regret flickered across his face as he tried to soften his tone. "Nara, I didn’t mean that. I misspoke." He let go of Macy’s hand and took a step toward me, trying to steady me as I swayed on my feet. However, I couldn’t hear him anymore. A sharp ringing filled my ears. I finally understood why Randall had fallen for someone like Macy. He hated my strength, my sharp edges, preferring women who were soft and fragile—someone who needed his protection. He had forgotten something, though. The life we’d built together didn’t come from softness. It was forged by my resourcefulness during the late nights at the negotiation table. That wasn’t something shameful. That was my journey. Even as I tried to remind myself of that, my head pounded relentlessly. The room spun, and before I blacked out, I managed to say one l
I had no interest in watching their lovey-dovey act, so I waved over the stunned factory manager. "When we were touring earlier, weren’t there visitors around?" The manager thought for a moment before nodding. "Yes, today’s open house. There were visitors taking a tour." "I remember seeing some of them taking pictures or recording. They helped bring the injured to the hospital earlier, right? They might still be here. Go find them." It didn’t take long before the manager rushed back, panting. "Good news. They haven’t left yet!" … The manager held out his phone, showing a video to everyone. Luckily, I’d noticed some visitors recording during the tour. The factory had been spruced up for the open house, making it look picturesque. I had hoped they’d captured the scene at the giant cat statue. The footage was clear, with no obstructions or editing. The video showed the moment the ceramic fell, and it was obvious I was standing far from the unsteady wooden shelf. Macy’s cla
Randall frowned as he asked, "Why were you over there?" I replied, "Because Macy called me over. She wanted to talk." Randall pressed on, "Did you touch the shelf?" I shook my head. Before I could say more, Macy chimed in softly, "It seems like she might have." I straightened in my seat, my tone growing cold. "What do you mean by that?" Macy shot me a hesitant glance. "Ms. Nara, I think you might have bumped into the shelf. That could explain why it became unstable."Mr. Harris, if I'd known the shelf was that fragile, I would have stopped Ms. Nara myself." I hated the way Macy always played the helpless victim, as if everyone was out to get her. Randall, on the other hand, had to have been bewitched to fall for someone like her. I cut her off. "Did you actually see me touch the shelf?" Randall’s face hardened with irritation. "Why are you being so aggressive?" I clenched my fists, swallowing the mix of disappointment and bitterness. "If I’m truly responsible,
I quickly composed myself and adopted the polished demeanor of a business professional. Michael and I began discussing the project as we toured the massive factory floor. Inside, rows of ceramic cat statues, intricately crafted and unique in design, lined the shelves. Harrison was a well-established company in the area, known for its significant influence. They often supported smaller businesses and cooperated with government initiatives to boost the local economy. This time, the project involved partnering with a local artisan workshop specializing in heritage crafts. The goal was to use our resources and Michael’s international channels to introduce these traditional products to foreign markets. Right in the center of the workshop stood a massive structure—a colossal ceramic cat statue, towering over 130 feet tall. The factory manager beamed with pride as he explained, “This piece is for the exhibition in a few days. We want to showcase our skill and share our culture with
However, I still held onto some naive pride. “If you ever stop loving me, I’ll take all the money I can and disappear somewhere so far away that you’ll never find me.” The memory brought me back to the present, and I realized tears were streaming down my face. Not for myself, but for the child I’d lost. Lucky jumped onto the couch, nudging at my face and licking my tears away with his warm, wet tongue. His big, soulful eyes were full of confusion and concern. He burrowed into my lap as if trying to comfort me. I needed to go far, far away from here. I’d take Lucky to Athens, Milan, and the places closest to heaven, where we could watch the northern lights together. As the night deepened, I eventually drifted off, curled up on the couch. Sometime later, I was awakened by a sudden warmth beside me. Randall wrapped his arms around me and whispered, “Nara, why didn’t you save me dinner tonight?” Dinner? Why would I? How many times had I waited for him late into the night,
I didn’t want someone so disgusting.Anger flashed across Randall’s face. However, he quickly smothered it. He reached for my hand anyway, gently leading me toward the car. “It’s okay. If you don’t like these, I’ll get you something else next time.” When I opened the car door, my gaze immediately fell on the passenger seat. Hanging prominently was a laminated sign that read "Princess Macy’s Seat", surrounded by cutesy stickers. It was all so juvenile, so cheesy. Randall’s car was always pristine, orderly, and devoid of any personal touch. For something like this to be in his car, it spoke volumes about how far he was willing to indulge Macy. Noticing my gaze, Randall looked visibly uncomfortable. “Macy’s still a bit childish, so I let her do what she wants.”Childish? That “child” was two years older than me. I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I slid into the back seat without a word. Randall, likely relieved by my uncharacteristic silence, sighed and got into the d
The procedure was over quickly, but the pain was far worse than I had anticipated.I found myself absentmindedly touching my now-flat stomach.There had been a life once.The brief bond I shared with this child felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. For five months, I endured my husband’s cold indifference and impatience and Macy Ericson’s smug provocations. Every night, the tension would haunt my dreams, leaving me drenched in cold sweat. Now, though, it was over. That tiny life inside me had saved me. After three days of recovery at the hospital, I was finally discharged. Yet, as I stepped out, my husband, Randall Harris, was waiting at the entrance. He held a bouquet of champagne roses, my favorite.The moment he saw me, he draped a coat over my shoulders. "It’s cold out. Why are you dressed so little?"He offered the roses to me. “Do you like them?” I knew what he was doing, offering me a way to smooth things over. It was our unspoken rule: when one of us up...
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