Chapter 3

Through the closed bedroom door, I could clearly hear Chloe's tearful sniffles from the hallway.

"I really didn't know she would gain this much weight during pregnancy... I picked that dress based on how she used to look. I honestly didn't think it through. I didn't mean to upset her, it's all my fault... ugh..."

Christian immediately hushed her, his voice soft and soothing.

"Don't cry. None of this is your fault. You had good intentions. Who knew she'd become so overly sensitive, flying off the handle over every little thing?"

"She's completely let herself go. Her belly is covered in hideous stretch marks—looks like a cracked watermelon. It's disgusting. She's just insecure and petty. Don't take it to heart."

Though he kept his voice down, every single word sliced cleanly through the door and straight into my ears.

Hearing his pure disgust, I began trembling with rage.

The only reason my body had changed, the only reason my skin had stretched, was because I was carrying *his* child.

And yet, to flatter and soothe Chloe, he trampled all over my dignity, reducing me to something hideous and worthless.

Outside, Chloe giggled through her tears, clearly thrilled by his harsh assessment of me.

He kept whispering sweet assurances to her for a long while before the hallway finally fell quiet.

Lying in bed, my entire body felt chilled to the bone. Exhausted, drained of every drop of energy, I slipped into an uneasy sleep.

I don't know how long I was out, but I suddenly felt a warm, heavy hand touch my bare stomach—only to jerk away immediately, as if touching an electric wire.

Drowsily, I opened my eyes. Christian was sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking awkward as he stared at my exposed, swollen belly.

Glancing down, I realized my pajamas had unbuttoned in my sleep, leaving my stomach completely bare. Under the dim lamp, the jagged purple stretch marks were on full display.

Christian quickly averted his eyes, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"How are you... and the baby?"

A wave of bitter nausea washed over me. I let out a mocking sneer.

"Oh? Now you remember you have a wife and a kid?"

A flicker of guilt crossed his face.

"You're carrying a baby, Valerie. You shouldn't stay so angry—it's bad for the child. It was supposed to be a fun night with friends. There was no need to take everything so seriously."

He leaned in to kiss my forehead, but I jerked my head away, dodging his touch.

His hands hung awkwardly in mid-air before he pulled back.

"Come on. Get up. Let's go to the kitchen."

I grabbed my phone to check the time. It was 2:30 in the morning.

Seeing my blank stare, he scratched his head and explained, "Chloe felt so guilty she couldn't sleep. She stayed up half the night cooking you late-night soup as an apology. Just do me a favor, get up, and eat a little."