In the end, all I could manage was a dry, "Is there anything you want to eat? I'll go buy it for you. I can get you that seafood chowder you used to love. And your favorite strawberries, too, okay?"

But Leo suddenly chimed in, his tone carrying a faint trace of mockery. "She doesn't like those anymore. Her tastes have changed during the pregnancy. Didn't you know?"

I froze for a second and looked at Celina, hoping for some kind of response from her. But she only kept her head lowered, her fingers twisting the blanket in her hands.

"Yeah, I don't feel like eating those right now," she said, her voice barely audible. "I'm a little sick of them now."

My heart sank. Just a few days ago, I had bought those exact same things, and she'd eaten them with relish, even smiling and thanking me.

But now, she said she was sick of them.

The pain inside me nearly swallowed me whole, but I still forced myself to stay calm and asked softly, "Then is there anything else you want? I'll go get it right now."

Leo, however, beat me to it. He reached into his bag and took out an exquisitely packaged box of pastries and handed them to Celina.

"I specifically went to buy these for you. They're the flavor you've been into lately. Give them a try?"

Celina took the box, a smile spreading across her face. Even her voice became noticeably brighter. "Thank you, Leo. You really do know me well."

I walked out of the room feeling deflated. Was this what she meant when she said nothing would change?

…

While Celina stayed in the hospital for the next few days, Leo never left her side.

On the day she was discharged, I arrived early, holding a bouquet of her favorite lilies.

But when I opened the door to her room, the sight in front of me left me completely stunned.

Celina had already changed into her own clothes and was sitting on the edge of the bed, while Leo was crouched down, helping her put on her shoes.

Pamela Sanford, her mentor—the elderly lady who had once treated me kindly—stood to the side, holding a small suitcase, with a faint smile on her face.

"Celina, the car's waiting downstairs. Once you're ready, we'll head out."

Celina nodded obediently. "Okay, Ms. Sanford."

I stood in the doorway, clutching the bouquet of lilies, a sharp ache rising in my chest.

"Celina, I'm here to take you home," I said.

She looked up at me, but there wasn't the slightest ripple of emotion in her eyes.

"Babe, Ms. Sanford said I should stay at her house until I give birth. You see, I'm getting quite far along now, and it's a little difficult for me to move around.

"I'm not saying that you can't take good care of me… It's just that there'll be more people at Ms. Sanford's house, so they'll be able to keep a better watch over me."

Her tone was light and casual, as though the matter wasn't even worth discussing.

In that moment, I felt like an irrelevant bystander. She merely needed to inform me of her decision, and I would then be expected to readily agree to it.

"Celina…" I started, wanting to say more, but Pamela had already grabbed her suitcase, and Leo was helping her to her feet as well.

She finally looked up at me again, but this time, there was a hint of impatience in her gaze.

"With Ms. Sanford and Leo taking care of me, what are you still worried about? Besides, there's a housekeeper at her place. Either way, they'll be able to take better care of me than you can on your own."

Pamela cut in, her tone urging them along. "Let's go. The car is waiting."

Celina nodded and followed them toward the door. As she walked past me, she didn't even spare me a glance.

It was as though I didn't exist at all.

I stood rooted to the spot, the bouquet of lilies still in my hand, my heart hollow.

When I got home, I sat alone in the empty living room, still clutching the now slightly wilted lilies.

The scene at the hospital kept replaying in my mind—Celina's indifference, Leo's smug satisfaction, and Pamela's condescending attitude.

For the first time, the thought of divorce crossed my mind.

Just as I was sinking deeper into a confusion I couldn't escape, my phone suddenly rang. When I saw the caller ID, my eyes lit up instantly.

It was Celina.

We had just parted, and now she was calling me. Did that mean she wasn't comfortable at Pamela's place and wanted to come home?

The joy I was feeling broke through all the earlier gloom, and my voice carried a trace of delight I hadn't even realized.

"Celina, are you—"

But before I could finish, she cut me off. "Pack a few of my clothes and bring them over. I'm not used to wearing these new ones. Also, Leo's birthday is coming up soon. Bring over the gift I prepared for him, too."

My throat felt dry. I heard myself asking, "What gift?"

A hint of impatience crept into her voice, as though I shouldn't have even asked such a question.

"That small gift box I left in the study a few days ago!"

My throat felt even scratchier, making me want to cough.

I knew about the gift box. At first, I had thought it was a birthday gift she'd prepared for me. After all, Leo's birthday and mine were only a month apart.

A silent, bitter laugh escaped me as tears welled up in my eyes. It seemed like I'd been reading too much into things.

I forced my lips into a smile and answered, "Okay."

…

When I arrived with the clothes, Pamela's place was being decorated. They said they were setting up a small party for Leo's birthday.

Many of the guests were fellow musicians, as well as students of Pamela's.

The place was decorated exquisitely and romantically, with soft lighting and gentle music drifting through the air.

Celina sat next to Leo, holding a violin in her hands, while Leo sat at the piano, his fingers gliding across the keys. Their music intertwined seamlessly, as if they were meant to be.

Their gazes met from time to time, filled with an unspoken understanding and tenderness, as if the rest of the world didn't exist and only the two of them remained.

Applause rose around them, and people murmured in admiration.

"They're both so talented. What a perfect pair!"

"I heard they've studied music together since they were kids. They've always been close."

I stood in a corner. The more beautiful their music sounded, the more my heart ached. That sense of being completely out of place surged over me like a tidal wave, drowning me whole.

In the end, I just quietly turned and left the party.

…

Back at home, I slowly packed my belongings into a suitcase, one item after another, my movements mechanical and numb.

Finally, I walked to the desk, opened the drawer, and took out the divorce papers I'd prepared. My hand trembled slightly as I held the pen, but I still signed my name with firm resolve.

I placed the papers on the desk and set a key next to them. It was the key to our home—my final goodbye.

Dragging the suitcase behind me, I walked out the door without looking back.

However, right at that moment, my phone started ringing again.