Chapter 4

“Tommy!” Vivian scolded half-heartedly, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

Instead of disciplining the brat, Ethan reached back to pat his head. “Good boy, Tommy, calm down. Godfather will take you to get burgers.”

Mom snapped. She slammed her hand against the back of the driver's seat. “Ethan! Are you even human?! Your flesh-and-blood daughter is screaming in terror, your mate was just assaulted, and you're offering to buy this brat burgers?!”

“Mom! Why do you have to be so harsh?” Ethan slammed on the brakes, his face dark. “Tommy is just a kid! What does he know?”

“If the kid doesn't know better, what's the adult's excuse?!” Dad roared.

The car descended into chaos.

I drew a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Dad, Mom, let's go. We're taking a cab to your place.”

Panic flickered in Ethan’s eyes. “Mia, what kind of scene are you making now? Your parents are right here—do you want everyone laughing at us?”

Ignoring him, I stepped out with Emma, hailed a passing cab, and left without looking back. Behind us, Vivian’s fake, soothing voice and Ethan’s frustrated honking faded into the distance.

Looking out at the passing scenery, I made up my mind.

This mate bond was rotten to the core. Like an infected wound, it had to be carved out before it killed me.

For the next month of my postpartum recovery, I stayed at my parents' house. The house was blissfully quiet.

Whether out of spite or shame from facing my parents' cold glares, Ethan left early and returned late every day. I didn't need to guess where he was spending his time.

I didn't yell. I didn't cry. I quietly nursed my baby, quietly healed my body, and quietly rehearsed the rejection oath I would speak before the Moon Goddess.

The day my recovery month ended, Ethan came home uncharacteristically early. He carried a bouquet of flowers and announced he had booked a table at a high-end restaurant.

“Mia, I've neglected you this past month. Let’s go out for dinner tonight—think of it as a make-up birthday dinner, okay? I want to spend time with Emma, too.”

His tone was earnest, looking for all the world like a man trying to make amends.

Looking at the handsome face that now made my stomach turn, I initially wanted to refuse. But on second thought, having things settled in a public place might keep things cleaner. Besides, I needed an opportunity to look him in the eye and tell him I was rejecting him.

“Fine,” I agreed.

At seven that evening, we sat in a popular rooftop revolving restaurant downtown. Ethan had clearly made an effort, dressed in a sharp suit with his hair neatly styled.

Yet, less than ten minutes after we sat down, the familiar nightmare reappeared.

“What a coincidence, Ethan! Mia, you’re here too?”

Vivian stood beside our table holding Tommy’s hand, smiling brightly.

Ethan’s face stiffened for a fraction of a second before lighting up with delight. “Vivian? What are you guys doing here?”

“Tommy was begging for ice cream from this place, so I brought him. But there are no open tables...” Vivian bit her lower lip, staring at Ethan with wide, helpless eyes.

Ethan’s gaze instantly drifted to the empty seat beside me—the spot holding my diaper bag and Emma’s baby carrier. Before I could utter a word, Ethan stood up, tossed my bag aside, and shoved Emma’s carrier inward, crowding me out.

“Sit here! We can all eat together—it’ll be fun!”

The blood in my veins turned to ice. The so-called “date night,” the “birthday celebration”—it all meant nothing the second Vivian showed up.

The moment Tommy sat down, he began banging his fork against his plate, shouting loudly. Vivian chatted away with Ethan, paying her son no mind.

I watched the absurd scene unfold, my fingers drumming rhythmically on the tabletop. Tonight was the night.