On my birthday, my husband's secretary brought me a bouquet of flowers.

Unfortunately, I was allergic to the pollen, which led to the loss of the baby I was carrying. A colleague called my husband, but he was indifferent. "What's with all the drama? I already sent her a gift. Now what is this fuss about?" he grumbled.

When the doctor required a family member's signature, he was equally dismissive. "It's just an allergy, isn't it? Do I really need to show up for this?" he scoffed.

I vaguely overheard him comforting his tearful secretary.

After the operation, I saw a post by his secretary on Instagram. It read, "Love is like nurturing flowers; I've found the one who truly cherishes me," accompanied by a picture of her with my husband. The bouquet she held was even larger.

It became clear to me that the alleged gift was merely something the secretary had discarded. I managed a bitter laugh and left a comment. "Wishing you a lifetime of happiness and many children."

Within moments, Grady called. "Matilda, what are you posting? Delete it immediately! People will get the wrong idea," he ordered. "How is this going to help Catherine find a boyfriend? Apologize to her at once!"

He scolded me sharply over the phone, oblivious to the fact that I was recovering from a life-threatening situation.

Before I could respond, Catherine's syrupy voice chimed in. "Grady, please don't raise your voice to Matilda. I'm sure she didn't mean it. I don't need her to apologize."

Grady's tone softened as he reassured Catherine, showing none of the frustration he had directed at me. "When someone makes a mistake, they should apologize. You don't need to speak for Matilda."

Catherine coyly praised him, "I never realized how principled you are, Grady. I'd be fortunate to find a boyfriend like you someday." Her words left me stunned.

Grady was once a name reserved for my use alone. Now, he freely allowed another woman to call him by it, granting her the privileges he once afforded only me. When did I cease to be his exception?

The hospital room was silent except for their conversation echoing through my phone.

"Hey, Matilda, did you hear me? Stop acting like you can't."

"It's convenient that you and Catherine share the same birthday; we'll just celebrate together. Don't be late at 6:30 tonight." He hung up abruptly, not even allowing me a chance to respond.

Today is my birthday, yet here I am, lying in a hospital bed. Earlier at the office, I received a gift from Grady’s secretary, Catherine. Upon opening the box, I discovered a small bunch of flowers inside.

I have a severe pollen allergy, and by the time I realized what the gift was, it was too late. I quickly felt an overwhelming sense of suffocation and lost consciousness.

My colleagues rushed me to the hospital. After resuscitation, I briefly regained awareness. The doctor explained that to save my life, I needed medication that would inevitably affect the baby. Essentially, to ensure my survival, I had to let go of the child.

I had intended to celebrate my birthday with him tonight and reveal my pregnancy. But he has plans to be with someone else tonight.

Holding back tears, my voice trembling, I answered the doctor. "Then...let's proceed with terminating the pregnancy."

"Matilda, are you ready yet?"

Every year on my birthday, Grady was always running late. Yet for Catherine's birthday, he managed to be at the restaurant an hour and a half early. As I read the message he sent, a wave of sadness swept over me.

"I'm at the hospital, so I can't make it to her party."

But Grady wasn’t going to let me off that easily.

"An allergy is hardly a reason to be in the hospital. Do you really need to blow this out of proportion?"

"Everyone from my company will be there. As the boss's wife, you can't just skip it. I'm coming to get you now."

In what felt like no time at all, he drove from the restaurant to the hospital. Within ten minutes, he was standing in the doorway of my room. Seeing me in the hospital bed didn't stir a hint of concern in him—just pure disdain.

"You look like a bloated mess, kind of like a pulled pork sandwich," he scoffed, holding up a fancy dress that had a Victorian flair, clearly expecting me to wear it.

My mouth, barely able to move because of the swelling, struggled to resist.

"Grady, I really don't want to go. Please don't make me."

He stood there silently for a moment before finally speaking.

"Looking like this, you'd only embarrass me if you showed up. Maybe it's better if you just—"

He was about to relent when a ringtone interrupted him.

"Grady, have you picked up Matilda yet?"

He looked torn but under Catherine's sweet persuasion, he gave in to her request.

"Did you hear that? Catherine just wants to celebrate with you. Don't mess it up for me."

The mirror in the hospital room was small, but enough to see my swollen face and the red welts covering my body. I slowly walked out of the restroom, where Grady stood waiting impatiently by the door.

"Come on, let's go."

He didn’t even give me a second glance.

I followed him, each step sending a dull pain through my abdomen. Inside, I made a silent decision.

I'll go with him one last time, as a farewell. After tonight, I'm leaving Grady for good.

I pushed open the door to the private dining room, and all eyes turned toward us. Someone let out a derisive snort.

"Who's that with the boss? Looks like a real mess."

Once everyone took a closer look, they realized something was off. A female colleague nudged the man who had spoken.

"Hey, isn't that woman behind him the boss's wife?"

The man immediately looked anxious.

A young woman seated at the head of the table stood up with a confident smile, eager to smooth things over for the man who'd spoken without thinking.

"Matilda is a generous person; she definitely won't hold it against you."

She gave me a once-over, as though I were a piece of merchandise.

The next moment, she couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Sis, I had no idea that dress would be such a bad fit on you. I should've picked a bigger size."

"You aren't going to hold that against me, are you?"

Grady patted her on the shoulder.

"She's just swollen from an allergy; it's not your fault."

Taking a closer look, I noticed Catherine was wearing the same dress as I was. However, mine was in a drab, outdated shade, while hers was bright and lively, making her look young and vibrant.

Catherine was clearly trying to make a point: she was young and beautiful, while I, despite the years spent by Grady's side, had lost the glow of youth.

Everyone began to take their seats, and Grady carefully rinsed a set of cutlery for her with hot water, acting as if I wasn't even there.

As the banquet began, a group of people came in, pushing a three-tier spiced honey cake, singing the birthday song as they entered.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

The birthday crown was placed on Catherine's head, her face lit up with happiness.

They all showered Catherine with birthday wishes, completely unaware that today was my birthday too. Even my husband, Grady, had completely forgotten.

The cake was cut into slices, and each person was served a delicately crafted piece specially ordered by Grady for Catherine.

Except me.

Catherine noticed my empty spot and tried to hand me her piece, but Grady stopped her.

"She doesn't like cake, no need to give her one."

I had indeed told him before that I wasn't fond of honey cake.

After all these years, I'd told him countless white lies, but this was the only one he seemed to remember.