I just sent the message when Eric pushed the door open.

He saw the suitcase at my feet, his brows furrowing into a knot, his tone full of impatience. "Had enough of this? Don't throw a childish tantrum."

He strode past me as if that massive suitcase was invisible, pulled a folded blueprint from his briefcase, and spread it on the table.

It was our home's floor plan.

"Take a look," he pointed to the study area, excited. "I plan to turn the study into the nursery. It faces south with plenty of sunlight. What do you think of painting the walls light yellow? More cozy that way."

He spoke so casually, as if we just discussed which restaurant to hit for the weekend.

That study still held all my professional books and the therapy equipment left unused.

He already rushed to erase every trace of me from this home.

I looked at his eyes lit by visions of the future and could not utter a word.

Eric took my silence as sulky agreement and kept planning on his own. "Once the child arrives, the three of us..."

"Buzz." His phone vibrated, the screen flashing Laurie.

Eric picked up almost instantly. The voice that bossed me moments ago dropped down, soft enough to wring water from. "Laurie? What happened? Insomnia again? Don't overthink it. I got you... Yeah, all sorted. Maeve understood. She signed."

He instinctively took the phone to the balcony, his back radiating guilty tenderness.

I heard that breezy "she understood" and suddenly laughed.

Five years ago, I dropped my studio plans, and he called me understanding.

Three years ago, I canceled an overseas training trip to nurse his sprained ankle, and he called me understanding.

In his world, my understanding meant sacrifice.

Eric finished the call and returned, the softness still lingered on his face. He saw my cool expression and frowned in displeasure again.

He cleared his throat and said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Laurie felt stressed and slept poorly recently. You know therapy, right? Swing by to help her out sometime. Count it as good karma for our future kid."

I finally lifted my eyes to meet his.

He not only trampled my feelings but also my career, wanting me to serve the woman about to carry his child.

How generous.

"My services cost a lot," I said, my voice calm as if it concerned someone else. "Have her book a slot. Dr. Fletcher, my schedule filled up fast these days."

Eric's face froze for a split second. He seemed unprepared for that response.

Then anger flared across his features. "Maeve, what happened to you? So petty! Got a grudge against money now?"

He pointed at me, looking heartbroken. "I said all premarital assets would go to you. What more do you want? Can you be less narrow-minded?"

I had no interest in arguing further.

Reasoning with a man who saw himself as a savior proved pointless.

When I stayed unmoved, Eric's patience ran out completely.

He yanked at his tie in frustration. "Unreasonable! I have reports to write for work!"

He slammed the study door shut.

The whole world went quiet in an instant.

I stared at that closed door and felt unprecedented ease for the first time.

This home that once warmed me now looked like a cage I could discard anytime.

At the same time, my phone screen lit up again with a message from Ethan. "Your sketches and gear weighs a ton. I'll help you move them tomorrow."

The nerves strung tight all evening finally loosened at those words.

My eyes heated, something welled up, but I held it back.

I bowed my head and replied, "Thank you so much."

The next morning, I taped up the last cardboard box when the doorbell rang.

I straightened up, but before I reached the door, Eric, who slept in the guest room overnight, beat me to it and yanked it open.

Laurie stood outside.

She walked in with a beaming smile, as if she returned to her own place. "Eric, I came to chat about the conception prep details."

As she spoke, her gaze swept over the stacked boxes in the living room and landed on me. "Oh, Maeve, what are you up to... spring cleaning for the baby?"

Eric glanced at me with an awkward expression, but his tone softened the moment he saw Laurie. "You arrive just in time. I want to tell you the study stand ready to convert into the nursery."

Laurie's eyes lit up.

She breezed past me and wandered through the house, acting every bit the lady of the manor.

"This painting's colors feels too gloomy. Hanging it here will not help the baby's early artistic exposure. We need to swap it out. Eric, your study has the best light, open north to south. It suites a nursery perfectly."

With every comment she made, Eric trailed behind and nodded along. "You thought of everything."

The two planned their shared future without a care for anyone else, treating me like thin air.

I crossed my arms and leaned against a stack of boxes taller than me, watching their absurd one-woman show like an outsider.

My heart stirred with no ripples at all. I even found it a bit funny.

Just then, Laurie's gaze fell on my packed therapy table. She covered her mouth in feigned surprise and turned to me. "Maeve, you still did that? House calls in all weather, so unsanitary, easy to catch bugs, tough and unsteady."

She paused, then spoke in a tone heavy with fake concern. "Once we have the kid, Eric shoulders the household alone. The pressure weighs too much. You ought to find something steadier and more respectable to share the load."

Her words dripped with contempt and humiliation for my profession.

Eric heard her and frowned at me too, chiming in. "Laurie has a point. That job of yours runs you ragged all over. It's not decent at all. Don't snap at her. She means well for us."

I finally reacted, lifted my gaze, and shifted it slowly from Eric's face to Laurie's hypocritical one. "My job stays beyond your judgment."

My words hung in the air when the doorbell rang again.

This time, without waiting for Eric, I strode over and pulled the door open.

Ethan's tall, straight figure appeared in the doorway.

He took in the scene inside, his eyes darkening, especially at Laurie and Eric standing close together.

But he asked nothing, just turned to me, his voice low and steady. "All packed up? I came to haul it."

At the sight of Ethan, the tight line of my mouth finally softened with a hint of warmth. "Yeah, all set."

Eric and Laurie both froze.

Eric in particular stared at his good buddy there to help me move, his face full of shock and betrayed fury.

"Ethan, what are you doing?" He stepped forward to block Ethan.

Then he whipped toward me, blazing with anger. "Maeve, what do you mean by this? Engagement not off yet, and you called in Ethan for backup? So eager to jump ship, huh?"

His double standard nearly made me laugh out of sheer fury.

He could donate sperm for his "best female buddy," but me asking a pal for a hand became out of line.

Ethan's broad frame stepped in front of me, calm as he eyed the worked-up Eric. "She needs to move. I come to help. That's it. Eric, watch your words."

"My words?" Eric barked a laugh like it was the biggest joke, fully enraged by Ethan's protectiveness.

He jabbed a finger at me and yelled what he thought was his trump card. "Fine, just fine! Maeve, I'm telling you, if you dare to go with him today, this engagement ends right here!"

He glared at me hard, his threat almost tangible. "I'd like to see who wants you without me!"

Beside him, Laurie quietly flashed a smug smile.

Eric's threat rang out loud and clear, each word wrapped in his usual air of lofty condescension.

He felt certain I could not live without him.

Yet I laughed.

I raised my eyes to meet Eric's glare that screamed "you wouldn't dare," and spoke three words clearly and calmly. "Fine, no marriage."

The air seemed to freeze for a second.

The anger on Eric's face stalled at once, turning into shock.

He probably never imagined I would respond that way. Deep down, he believed I would beg for his forgiveness.

I often treasured our hard-won bond. Each time, I yielded to preserve our relationship, hoping he would one day grasp my good intentions.

I spared him another glance, turned to Ethan, and said. "Ethan, thank you. Let's go."

"You..." Eric sounded like a cat with its tail stepped on. He reached out instinctively to grab me, his voice pitching higher. "Maeve, do you mean that?"

Ethan's tall frame shifted forward just enough to shield me without effort. He bent down quietly and hoisted the heaviest box with one hand.

Actions spoke louder than words.

Eric lost his footing entirely. The control he prided himself on crumbled in that moment, leaving only awkward desperation.

In the middle of this tense standoff, Eric's phone shrilled.

He fumbled to answer it. A frantic female voice came through from the other end, Laurie's agent. "Eric! Laurie... she locked herself in the studio. Said the stress overwhelmed her and she did not want to live anymore!"

I paused mid-step and looked back.

Laurie had slipped away unnoticed at some point to stage another tearful drama.

Eric's face drained of color in a flash.

On one side stood me, about to slip from his grasp forever. On the other waited his "life-or-death" confidante.

He barely hesitated.

Male logic snapped back into place. He found his out and his scapegoat.

He shoved past Ethan at the door, eyes bloodshot as he bellowed at me. "Maeve, you win this round!"

With that, he bolted into the elevator without a backward glance.

He never looked at me once.

The elevator doors slid shut slowly, reflecting my serene face.

"He always did that," I said to Ethan beside me. "Use one duty to dodge another."

I picked up the last box myself.

We climbed into Ethan's rugged SUV, and the street views blurred past the window.

I pulled out my phone, found Eric's number, and blocked it, then deleted.

I located Laurie's chat and blocked it, then deleted.

Once finished, I leaned back in the seat and let out a long breath of stale air.

The world fell quiet.

The car stayed silent, save for the steady hum of the engine.

Ethan kept his eyes on the road ahead and broke the quiet, his voice low and steady as ever. "Maeve, since he does not cherish you, will you consider me?"

I froze in stunned silence and turned to him, unsure what he meant.

He finally turned his face toward me, meeting my gaze.

No pity filled his eyes, no hesitation. Only pure sincerity and respect shone there.

He reached into the car console for a velvet box, opened it, and revealed a sparkling diamond necklace. "Back then, I arrived a step too late. Do I still have a chance to give this now?"