Half an hour later, Ezra returned to the room and saw Shermaine lying on the bed. Her breathing was steady, like she had fallen into a deep sleep. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Before leaving, he made sure to tuck the blanket around her carefully and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then, without hesitation, he turned and left.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed in the silence of the night, jarring in the stillness.

Once Ezra had gone, Shermaine slowly opened her eyes. The bright, clear gaze she was known for now seemed clouded with sorrow, and her face was ashen, devoid of life.

With delicate movements, she propped herself up in bed. Her gaze drifted toward the door, her eyes distant and numb. She felt like a hollow shell.

Before lying down, Shermaine had found a moment to sneak to the bathroom and make herself throw up. Even so, when she stood up, her limbs were still tingling, her strength drained.

The effects of the drug were clearly powerful.

A wave of bitter sadness swept over Shermaine, and despite herself, a small, bitter smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She had to admit she had been a fool. Before the drug took full effect, she had still clung to a small hope.

She had hoped it was all a lie—that the husband who had loved her so deeply could never do such things.

But reality struck like a slap in the face, shattering the illusion of a happy marriage.

Shermaine paused for a moment to collect herself before she stood up, got dressed, and followed Ezra.

Perhaps due to the rush, Shermaine wasn't the best at following him discreetly, but she managed to follow him to a bar without trouble.

She remembered, in the past, how Ezra had quit smoking and drinking for her sake, knowing her aversion to those things. But now, Shermaine realized the truth.

Ezra had only pretended to give them up in front of her.

In the corners where she couldn't see, Ezra's desires had reignited, and with it, his heart had strayed from its rightful path.

Shermaine watched Ezra enter a private room, and she deliberately waited ten minutes before approaching the door.

She peered through a small window in the door. The scene inside shattered her already prepared expectations.

On the black leather couch, a man and a woman were passionately kissing, completely lost in the moment. They seemed oblivious to the passage of time and everything around them.

The man was Ezra. And beneath him was Melanie.

At that moment, Melanie gasped for breath, her face flushed and her eyes heavy with lust. She playfully pushed Ezra away before teasingly unbuttoning her blouse, her voice breathy.

"Ezra, you're so eager every time. Am I the only one who can satisfy you?"

Ezra gulped, his gaze locked on the exposed skin of Melanie's bosom as she continued to undress, his breath becoming ragged. His handsome face was filled with a hunger he had never shown Shermaine.

"You little minx," he murmured as he pulled her closer and kissed her deeply.

Shermaine, watching from the doorway, felt like a heavy weight had settled on her heart. The invisible pressure squeezed the air from her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Suddenly, a wave of disgust overtook her. She sank to the floor, clutching her mouth to stifle the nausea.

Five years of marriage, and every time they had been intimate, Ezra had been tender and considerate, always putting her feelings first without ever showing any passion.

She had thought it was because he respected her and was uninterested in the physical side of their relationship.

Now, she realized how foolish she had been.

He had reserved his respect for her, but his desires had been given to another woman.

Shermaine didn't want to be discovered at that moment, as it might lead to other problems.

With trembling hands, she snapped a few pictures on her phone, then quickly left. She didn't even remember how she made it home, but as soon as she stepped through the door, pain unlike any she had ever felt gripped her abdomen.

The agony was so intense that it felt as if her very soul was being torn from her body.

Drenched in sweat, Shermaine mustered the strength to grab her phone, but she didn't dial Ezra's number.

An ambulance arrived soon after.

Barely conscious, Shermaine could only remember being wheeled into the operating room. The harsh light above her eyes was blinding.

She heard someone sigh softly beside her.

"The baby's only two months along... I'm afraid we won't be able to save it."

When Shermaine woke up, she sat by the window, staring blankly. It felt like every tear she had left in her life had been shed at that moment.

She couldn't even begin to describe how she felt.

The good news was, she had been pregnant.

The bad news was, she had lost the baby.

For five years, Shermaine and Ezra had longed for a child. But those hopes were dashed every single time. After every disappointment, Ezra comforted Shermaine, telling her that maybe it just wasn't in the stars and that she shouldn't worry too much about it. Shermaine could see, though, that Ezra truly wanted a child.

She had tried every folk remedy and supplement. She had even, a lifelong skeptic, turned to praying.

No one had expected it, but she had managed to get pregnant.

Shermaine softly caressed her flat stomach, a wave of heartache washing over her.

Maybe it was better this way. The child would never have to grow up in a broken home.

Just then, the nurse entered with some medication. Seeing Shermaine's pale and sorrowful face, she sighed in resignation. "What's the use in regretting it now? Just be more careful next time," she said matter-of-factly. "When you try again, avoid taking any medication for your nerves, especially heavy sedatives. Even if the baby survived, there could have been deformities."

Shermaine's head buzzed, and she felt a chill run down her spine.

"Did the medication cause my miscarriage?" she asked, her voice shaking.

The nurse glanced at her, her expression puzzled. "Of course. Those meds have a heavy impact on adults, let alone a baby."

Shermaine let out a soft laugh, which grew louder, though her face remained drenched in tears.

She gripped the blanket tightly, her fingers turning white from the pressure. She wanted to scream, to let it all out, but she couldn't summon the strength. She just cried and laughed, as if losing her mind.

The nurse gave her a strange look, finished with the medication, and hurried out.

Shermaine collapsed onto the bed, her body limp and broken and her eyes full of despair. The last traces of love she had left for Ezra vanished.

When Ezra arrived at the hospital, Shermaine had already composed herself.

Aside from some slight redness and swelling around her eyes, there was no sign of anything being wrong in her appearance or behavior.

Ezra rushed in, his handsome face filled with concern. He was clearly out of breath, sweat beading on his forehead.

He stepped into the room, his worry overwhelming when he saw Shermaine's pale face.

"Shermaine, what happened? Why are you in the hospital?" His voice was tinged with panic.

He quickly added, "I had to deal with something at work last night, so I rushed out. I didn't want to wake you or worry you, so I didn't tell you."

Shermaine remained calm, carefully watching Ezra. His eyes were filled with worry and tenderness, but there was no hint of guilt.

When she didn't respond, Ezra's unease deepened. His voice faltered as he asked, "Shermaine, are you angry with me?"

She forced a weak smile, still slightly breathless. "Of course not."

She reached up and gently brushed Ezra's slightly messy hair. "It's nothing. I just woke up with a fever and didn't feel well, so I came to the hospital. Look how worried you are."

Ezra sighed in relief and pulled Shermaine into an affectionate embrace. "Shermaine, you have no idea how scared I was when I heard you were in the hospital."

What Ezra didn't see, however, was the emptiness in Shermaine's eyes as he held her. There was even a trace of disgust in her gaze.

From where she stood, she could clearly see the marks of intimacy on Ezra's neck.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her, and she pushed Ezra away.

The sudden movement almost made Ezra stumble to the floor.

He wasn't angry, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Shermaine, are you really mad at me?"

Shermaine fought to suppress the nauseous feeling rising in her stomach, the urge to vomit almost overwhelming.

She shook her head, pretending to have a headache. "I'm fine. The doctor said I have the flu, and it's contagious. Until I'm better, I should stay in the hospital so I don't give it to you."

Ezra's frown deepened immediately at her words.

"Which doctor said that? No way, Shermaine. You have to come home with me."

He crouched down, taking her hand with reverence and affection, like she was the most precious thing in the world. "If you're not within my sight, I'll worry about you."

So tender, so loving.

He was trying once again to weave a web of sweetness, to deceive her without her noticing.

Shermaine pushed his hand away, forcing a smile that felt weak. "Ezra, don't do this. I'll come home when I'm better."

Ezra saw the determination in her eyes and finally sighed. "Alright, fine."

But the joy in his gaze was nearly impossible to hide.

After all, within the next few days, his secret affair would be a lot easier to manage.

Shermaine felt a wave of sadness.

Such poor acting. How had she not seen through it before?

Her hand, hidden behind her back, still clutched the miscarriage diagnosis, crumpled tightly in her fist.

In the following days, Ezra continued to spend the majority of his time with Shermaine.

Rain or shine, he came to the hospital every day, always attentive, always thoughtful.

The nurses would often comment on how perfect he seemed.

"He's such a handsome guy, looking like a movie star, and he's so good to his wife!"

"Right? He's so protective of her. The other day when I spoke to him, he was cold as ice, but he always mentioned his wife."

"Ugh, I wish I could meet a man like that!"

Shermaine overheard this while she was up, trying to walk around, and a bitter smirk appeared on her lips.

Was he really being caring?

Then why hadn't he even bothered to ask the doctor how she was doing?

Why did he believe that a simple cold could make her suffer so much, causing her stomach to ache every day and her face to remain pale?

His daily attention was just so he could clear his evenings to be with another woman.

Shermaine almost felt exhausted for Ezra.

She quietly stepped to the stairwell and sent the photos from that night—of Ezra and Melanie's affair—to the private detective.

She also messaged her lawyer friend.

[Less than a week left. Please make sure the agreement is ready.]

As she turned around, Shermaine overheard a familiar voice from the hallway.

"Stop it. I have to be with her during the day, but I'll be with you at night, like always. Okay, okay. Just two more hours. Once I give her this afternoon's medication, I'll come to you right away. Don't forget to wear the clothes I bought for you. I want to see them when I get back."

Ezra stood by the window, the cold light streaming in, giving him an almost ethereal, statuesque appearance.

No one would have ever guessed that this seemingly perfect man would speak such intimate words to another woman.

The conversation continued, and Ezra's tone grew more tense and agitated.

"Melanie, don't even think about it. I told you, that's my home with Shermaine. You have no right to interfere."

In the quiet hallway, even without the speaker on, their words could be heard clearly.

Melanie seemed to have started crying, her voice soft and pleading, trying to coax Ezra.

He remained silent, his jaw clenched and his teeth grinding.

Ezra didn't notice Shermaine standing behind him, pale and still.

Just then, a nurse passed by and called out.

"Ms. Stout, you're still recovering. Don't stand in the draft, or you'll catch a cold again."