Chapter 4

I've always dreamed of having children, always wondering what it would be like to have a child of my own, to feel their tiny fingers curl around mine as they drift off to sleep.

But my husband didn't want a child. The first time I broached the subject, he grew quiet and distant. I couldn't blame him for it. His father had abandoned him before he was even born, leaving him to grow up with a single mother. Perhaps he feared repeating the same pattern, becoming a terrible father—much worse than his own.

However, Crimson got Celestine pregnant. He must have been so in love with her to have broken his promise of not wanting a baby.

"Move on, Elizabeth. Leave yourself a bit of self-respect and stop chasing a man. Had he truly loved you, he wouldn't have fallen for me!"

My friend's words stung, but it's still not an excuse for her to snatch another woman's husband. “Crimson is still my husband,” I spat firmly. She wasn't in a position to be proud in front of me since she's not even the legal wife.

“Soon you're gonna be,” she bit back with a smug look on her face. We've been friends for a long time, but I never knew she had such a nasty personality.

“What if I refuse to sign the divorce papers?” I challenged, which made her smile falter. She lifted her chin and snapped at me, saying I was desperate and delusional for forcing myself on a man who didn't want me.

The rest that happened was a blur, but it was pure chaos, with Celestine screaming at me, hurling demeaning words. The last thing I knew was two security personnel forcefully ushering me to the door.

“You don't have to drag me out!” I snapped at them, chin raised. “I'm leaving on my own.” Just after saying that, I hurriedly left the building and clambered into a cab.

"This is your stop, Miss," the cab driver jolted me out of my deep reverie.

I wondered how long I'd been lost in thought. It must have been quite a while, as I had arrived at my destination without even realizing it.

I paid the fare, stepped out of the car, and gazed up at the towering two-story structure of Velvet Lounge.

At night, its vibrant neon lights flickered brilliantly against the dark sky. However, in the harsh light of day, the bar appeared rather ordinary, lacking the mesmerizing charm that captivated bar hoppers to enter at night.

With a deep breath, I approached the imposing double doors. My fingers quivered as I pushed them open, and a blast of frigid air slammed into my face, sending a shiver down my spine.

The last time I was here, I never could have imagined returning. Yet, in the tumultuous past few days, nothing has gone as planned—not even this impulsive decision to confront my fears and step inside.

I spotted just a few customers peacefully enjoying their drinks at their seats—I could count them on one hand.

The quiet atmosphere put me at ease as I made my way toward the bar counter unnoticed. And there, I found him.

He stood confidently behind the counter, his vest abandoned on a nearby chair as he rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, wiping down wine glasses with precision before placing them back on the rack.

With his sad and lonely amber eyes, he had a boyish and innocent look.

Suddenly, our eyes met, and I could feel the weight of his gaze. He didn't seem surprised to see me, almost as if he had been anticipating my arrival.

"Wine, champagne, or juice?" he inquired politely, treating me like any other customer.

My legs felt as though they might give out beneath me, and I lowered myself onto the barstool.

"No thank you," I replied.

He nonchalantly shrugged. "Suit yourself."

I cleared my throat, hoping to regain his focus. But he didn't respond; his gaze was fixed on arranging the glasses on the rack. It was as if I had become invisible.

"Did something happen between us?” The words escaped me before I could stop myself.

A gut-wrenching silence filled the air, each second stretching into eternity. It felt as if my heart was about to stop beating at any moment.

“If you're implying that we had sex, no, we didn't,” he finally replied. “Someone found you passed out on the pavement, and since no one was willing to help, I brought you to the hotel I'm staying at.”

Instantly, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, akin to having a thorn pulled from my chest.

That's all I needed to hear.

With my chin held high, I walked proudly toward the door.

However, my stride was cut short when a searing pain shot through my stomach, stretching down into my lower back.

"Aarghh!"

The dizzying pain was too much for me to handle. I looked down at the floor, and when I did, I wished I hadn't, as I witnessed a trail of crimson slithering down my thigh.

"Miss, are you alright?"

I felt myself losing consciousness and let out a desperate cry for help. In that moment, a pair of strong arms caught me before I could hit the cold, hard floor.

—

I slowly opened my heavy eyelids, my gaze landing on the stark white ceiling above me.

I shifted slightly, feeling the weight of the IV drip attached to my arm.

The man from the bar was seated beside the bed, his expression unreadable. As soon as he saw me stir, he sprang into action, calling for hospital staff.

A moment later, a uniformed nurse bustled into the room, clutching a folder to her chest.

With a gentle smile, she met my gaze before turning to the man, then back to me.

"I have some wonderful news," she said. "Your baby is doing just fine, and you'll be discharged tomorrow."

My mouth hung open. "I—I'm pregnant!?”