Chapter 2

I took off my clothes and stepped into the bathroom.

In the mirror, my stomach was covered in bruised puncture marks from the ovulation shots.

One injection a day, for two whole years.

Ethan said he wanted a child, so I started trying to conceive.

I drank herbal medicine until it made me sick, and jabbed my belly with countless needles.

At first he would press the cotton swab down for me, wincing at the pain for my sake. Then, little by little, he stopped noticing, and by now even when we were intimate his gaze would deliberately skirt around that patch of needle scars.

I reached up and covered that mangled patch on the mirror.

The next day, I went to the hospital to schedule the abortion.

The gynecology corridor was full of people coming and going. I held the paperwork and sat on a bench, waiting.

When I looked up, I saw Ethan coming down the far end of the hall.

He was supporting Piper, whose brow was faintly furrowed, her whole air fragile and delicate.

"Doctor, is she really all right?"

Ethan trailed after the doctor, his voice tight.

"Should she have a full workup? She just said her stomach felt a little off."

The doctor waved a hand. "Mild menstrual irregularity. Just get some rest."

Ethan asked again. "She has a weak constitution. Please look more carefully."

The doctor, worn down by his nagging, let out a sigh.

"If you really can't set your mind at ease, we can run a full-body checkup."

Only then did Ethan relax. He turned and took Piper's arm, guiding her toward the payment counter.

As he passed the bench where I sat, his steps hitched, and he blinked, thrown for a second.

"What are you doing here?"

His eyes rested on my face for two seconds.

"Your stomach acting up again?"

"Yeah."

"Then look after yourself. Stop eating cold things all the time."

He tossed the words off, then walked away with Piper on his arm.

Back home, Ethan was busy packing things up.

A dozen kinds of snacks were laid out on the coffee table, all the sweet-and-sour flavors, and he was tucking them into a box one by one.

"Piper's moving, and her appetite's been bad lately, so I'm putting together some food for her."

He didn't lift his head. "She's on her own. She can't take care of herself."

"How did your checkup go?"

A wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere. I clamped a hand over my mouth and rushed into the bathroom.

The sound of dry heaving echoed off the tiles.

Ethan knocked on the door from outside, his voice edged with impatience.

"Serena, can't you just take care of yourself? You think you're still eighteen?"

I braced myself against the sink and looked at my reflection.

My face was ghost-white, my lips cracked.

Back when I helped him build the company, the two of us crammed into a partitioned little room, pulling all-nighters on proposals, drinking to reel in clients. I wrecked my stomach doing it.

Later, after I found out about Piper, I couldn't for the life of me understand how Ethan's heart had changed.

I copied her, drinking iced coffee and eating fried chicken, until I ended up hospitalized with acute gastritis.

He came to the hospital to see me, brows drawn together as he asked,

"Serena, do you just have to put yourself through the wringer?"

I asked him, "And what about you? You like them young, don't you?!"

That was the first time we truly tore off the masks and fought.

After that we fought over Piper so many times that I went from hysterical at the start to completely indifferent.

It was probably on some perfectly ordinary night. He was explaining himself over Piper again, and I picked up the remote and changed the channel, and only then did I realize I hadn't pressed him on a single thing in a long time.

My phone buzzed.

A text from the hospital: 【Ms. Serena Locke, your surgery for tomorrow is confirmed. Please arrive on time.】

At the same moment, Ethan's phone lit up on the sink counter.

Piper had sent a photo of herself wearing a ring.

【I put on the matching band, I'll show you tonight~ Don't forget to wear yours~】

I looked down at the silver band on my ring finger.

Ten years had gone by. This silver band had long since gone dull and darkened. I'd sent it out to be cleaned several times, and in the end I still wore it.

And the new wedding ring Ethan promised had never come.

When I walked back out, a strip of stomach medicine had appeared on the coffee table, with a cup of hot water beside it.

Maybe it was the cramping in my belly clouding my head, maybe it was that strip of pills that made me go blank for an instant, but absurdly I wanted to open my mouth and tell him I was pregnant.

I had just parted my lips when Ethan straightened up.

"Oh, right, Piper's moving tomorrow, so I have to head over early. Just look at your test results yourself when they come, and don't drag it out and leave it untreated again."

My throat went faintly dry. I lowered my eyes and swallowed the words that had risen to my lips.

I'd actually been expecting something again.

"I have surgery tomorrow," I said quietly. "Can you come sign for me?"

"No. Piper's moving tomorrow. She can't manage it alone."

He paused, then added,

"You're a grown woman. You can't sign it yourself?"

I lowered my gaze and folded the test paper.

"Okay."

"Good luck with the move, then."