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."

The words hit Ezra like a thunderclap, jolting him awake.

His face drained of color. He quickly ended the call, turning around to find himself locking eyes with Shermaine, whose gaze was as cold as ice.

She had lost more weight in the past few days due to illness, her pale face expressionless, like the winter sun—bright but without warmth.

"Shermaine." Ezra's heart raced. He stepped forward, fumbling for words. He opened his mouth but had no idea what to say.

Shermaine smiled lightly, as though nothing had happened. "What's wrong, Ezra? I heard your voice and came to check on you. You look off. Did you argue with someone?"

Ezra visibly relaxed, quickly slipping into his usual act. He furrowed his brow, feigning irritation. "A few companies I'm working with have been acting up. I got angry and gave them a piece of my mind. Anyway, we shouldn't be standing here. Let's head back. Look how cold your hands are," Ezra remarked, swiftly taking her hand and tucking it into the warmth of his coat.

Through the thin fabric of his shirt, he tried to warm her hands with his body heat.

Shermaine lifted her gaze to Ezra's flawless profile and, for a brief moment, lost herself in thought. "Ezra, I want to go home."

Ezra's smile faltered for a moment before he quickly recovered.

"Maybe later." He scrambled for an excuse. "Didn't the doctor say you're still recovering? It'd be best to stay at the hospital for a few more days. Besides, our anniversary is coming up. Let me take some time to make the house look nice."

Ezra lowered his voice, his tone deep and sultry. "Shermaine, I want to surprise you."

The air between them felt heavy with tension, but Shermaine's heart remained as cold as ever.

She quietly withdrew her hand, giving a small nod. "Alright."

Ezra, trying to sound considerate and a little eager to please, added, "How about we go watch the sunset on Mount Ashmore for our anniversary? You've been wanting to go for months, and I finally have some free time."

Shermaine's expression grew even more distant. She forced a strained smile. "Forget it. I'm tied up with a group project. I can't get away."

Ezra hesitated, his dark eyes briefly clouded with a rare trace of hurt.

"Shermaine, don't you remember? Your project is almost finished. The final tasks can be handled by my department."

He paused, then asked, almost timidly, "Shermaine, did I do something to upset you?"

Shermaine didn't answer. She just looked at him coolly, a chill spreading inside her.

If he hadn't mentioned it, she might have forgotten.

As a mentor, Shermaine had been overseeing a project with several students. The school hadn't supported it at first, but Ezra had kept pouring money into it.

In fact, to ease some of Shermaine's stress, he'd even set up a project department to collaborate directly with her team, allowing him to fund it without question.

At the time, Shermaine had been touched by his gesture.

It wasn't until she started investigating Ezra and Melanie's relationship that she had a rude awakening.

The night that marked the beginning of their affair—the night of passion—was also the night Ezra had announced the creation of the project department.

So, Ezra didn't establish that department just to help her. It was more about making it easier for him to have an affair with Melanie.

All those sweet memories from the past, the ones that had once filled her heart with warmth, turned into slaps to her face, one after the other, as realization hit.

Now, seeing Ezra's eager, affectionate expression, Shermaine only found it laughable.

He was still pretending.

A quiet, bitter laugh escaped her throat before she nodded. "Alright, let's go together."

After all, she had her own "gift" to give Ezra on that day.