On 1st of June, I unexpectedly receive a phone call from my future daughter.

With a smile on my face, I ask her, "Sweetheart, are Mommy and Daddy still happy and in love?"

She proudly replies, "Of course! Mommy and Daddy have a great relationship. They never fight. He says she is the person he loves the most in his life!"

My face flushes with embarrassment. I think to myself that Malcolm Gray really shouldn't be saying things like that in front of a child.

Lost in happiness, I continue asking questions. "Then did you take my last name, Rosewood, or Daddy's last name, Gray?"

She falls silent for two seconds, like she is confused.

Then, she replies, "I have Daddy's last name, but my mommy's last name is Parker. Her name is Summer Parker."

I freeze at those words.

Summer Parker is the name of my best friend since childhood.

Just yesterday, she and Malcolm end up in the hospital after getting into a physical fight because of an argument involving me.

My throat tightened, and my hand, holding the phone, wouldn't stop trembling. How could this be?

Summer Parker and I had known each other for more than a decade. She was easygoing, carefree, and always spoke her mind. She even disliked my boyfriend, Malcolm Gray, more than anyone else.

She thought he was pretentious and that he never treated me well. She hated watching me put up with him. Every time she ran into him, they would end up arguing.

Malcolm and I had almost broken up several times because he said something bad about her.

The childish voice on the phone pulled me back to reality. "Miss, you still haven't told me when Daddy is coming home to spend time with me."

I swallowed the pain stabbing through my chest and forced myself to stay calm. "Sweetheart, how old are you?" I asked.

"I'm six!"

Six, huh? That meant Summer would already be carrying her now.

The phone slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor. A chill ran through my body.

Yesterday, when I went shopping with her, her clothing size had gone from a 6 to an 8. I had even joked that she had gained some weight recently, completely missing the panic that flashed across her eyes.

No. This couldn't be true.

"Sweetheart—"

I was about to ask her more questions when an adult's voice came from the other end of the phone. "Nina, who are you talking to?"

I knew that voice better than anyone. It belonged to the man who had slept beside me for the past four years.

Nina was the name I had chosen two days ago.

That night, I'd found Malcolm flipping through a baby names book. He said he was looking for a name for our future child. I'd teased him for getting ahead of himself when we weren't even married yet.

He lowered his head and smiled. "There's no rush for that."

I understood what he meant now. There was no rush to get married because he wasn't having a child with me.

"Miss, I sent you a friend request. We can talk again next time. I'm going to spend time with Daddy now!"

The call ended.

I took a cab to the hospital. As I walked past the nurses' station, I saw Malcolm standing in the hospital corridor.

Yesterday, we had a fight, and Summer had taken my side. She and Malcolm had argued so fiercely and ended up in the hospital. Malcolm's assistant had told me he'd flown to Southlake that night.

After Malcolm entered a hospital room, I walked over and stopped outside the door. Inside, he pulled Summer into his arms, his face filled with concern.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this, Summer. You even had to put on an act like that to protect the baby," he said gently. "Once I secure the new project from the Rosewoods, I'll break up with Willow. You and the baby are all that matter to me."

I stood outside the door, my nails digging into my palm as I held back my tears.

Summer sighed. "I don't want things to be this way either, but Willow is my best friend. I don't want to hurt her…"

She paused before continuing, "Didn't you make a few new connections with some business owners lately? When the time comes, you should introduce them to Willow. Think of it as our way of making it up to her."

It felt like my throat was stuffed with shards of glass. I couldn't even make a sound through the pain.

The business owners Malcolm had recently befriended were all over 50. Some had even been divorced three times.

I stumbled into the stairwell and wiped away my tears. Then, I called Dad.

"Hey, Dad. I need you to withdraw all the projects we were planning to give to Gray Corporation. As for taking over the international branch, I've given it a second thought. I'll pack my bags and leave next week."

A long silence hung on the other end of the line. Then came Dad's sigh.

"Willow, did you and Malcolm have another fight? I never planned to give those projects to Gray Corporation in the first place. You were the one who knelt outside my study for three days, begging me. You can't keep acting on impulse and treat the company's future like a game, darling."

I sat on the stairs, my fingers brushing against the bruises on my knees. When I pressed down, a sharp pain shot through them.

"Dad, I mean it this time. I'll report to the international branch next week. I promise I won't be so petulant anymore, Dad."

Even Dad knew Malcolm was the person I treasured most in the world. How could my best friend not have known?

That night, the moment I got home, my phone rang again. It was the same number, and the same little girl's soft voice came through the speaker.

"Miss, why haven't you accepted my friend request?"

A mix of resentment and anger twisted together in my chest. I wanted to understand exactly where things had gone south. So, I accepted her friend request. It helped a lot that she was talkative.

I stared at the cute stickers on the screen, hesitating before asking, "Nina, do you know how your daddy and mommy got together?"

She sent me a long voice message, her voice bubbling with pride.

"Of course! I know their whole love story! Every night, when Daddy tucks me into bed, he tells me about how he and Mommy fell in love."

I sat there in a daze, staring at the photo frame on the coffee table. Inside was the first picture Malcolm and I had ever taken together.

I had pursued him for three years, from high school all the way through college. At our high school graduation ceremony, Summer had teased me relentlessly and pushed me toward Malcolm. She winked at me, signaling me to move closer so we could take a picture together.

Malcolm had refused at first. When I accidentally brushed against him, he had even discreetly dusted off the spot where I'd touched him.

Annoyed, Summer dragged me over to him, insisting that he take a picture with the two of us. I thought he would reject us again, but this time, he agreed.

Later, Summer sent me the photo and had cropped herself out of it on purpose. I was so happy I couldn't sleep that night. I set the photo as my lock screen wallpaper and kept it there for four years.

"Nina, I'd love to hear that story," I said. "Can you tell me, please?"

"Of course!" Nina chirped. "Daddy said that he fell in love with Mommy at first sight at their high school graduation ceremony. They took a picture together that day, and it's still hanging above their bed."

She then took a picture and sent it to me. When I opened the image, it was none other than our graduation photo. Except this time, the person standing in the middle—me—had been edited out.

Beside it hung a vintage-style wedding portrait of Summer and Malcolm.

A couple of days ago, I'd brought up wedding photo ideas with Malcolm and mentioned I liked them retro. Without even looking up or glancing at the pictures I'd shown him, he'd shaken his head.

"Nah," he said. "It looks too outdated and feels kind of creepy. Let's go with something else."

This past year, I'd suggested more than 100 different wedding photo ideas, and he'd rejected every single one. It turned out the issue was never about the style. It was the bride.

Nina kept talking excitedly. She told me how much effort Malcolm had put into pursuing Summer. From their high school graduation to their college graduation, their story sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

Meanwhile, I felt more like the unwanted third wheel in this relationship.

A sour wave churned in my stomach. The nausea was so overwhelming that I almost threw up.

In my distraction, my phone slipped onto the carpet. When I reached down to pick it up, I accidentally turned on the video call function.

The moment Nina saw my face, she stopped talking and froze. She looked scared, even.

I positioned my phone straight and asked softly, "What's the matter, Nina?"

She seemingly sighed in relief and said, "Oh, it's you, Ms. Rosewood. You actually look quite pretty when you're not acting crazy."

Something inside me died a little.

"What did you just say?" I asked.

Nina scratched her head, looking a little confused. "Every time I saw you, you were always acting crazy. It was really scary. You'd grab Daddy and say you were going to kill him—something about paying with his life for your daddy's death.

"Mommy also told me to stay away from you because she was afraid you'd hurt me."

A chill ran down my spine. I bit my lip hard.

What had Malcolm done to Dad during those years that prompted me to be so vengeful?

"Nina, I was just playing a game with your daddy," I said, trying to reassure her.

I suppressed the gnawing pain in my chest, desperately trying to figure out what had happened. Then, Malcolm's voice suddenly came from behind me.

"Willow, who are you talking to?"

I couldn't let him and Nina see each other, so I hurriedly ended the call.

When I didn't answer him, he assumed I was still mad at him. So, he placed a jar of acacia honey beside me.

"I flew all the way to Southlake to get this for you," he said. "Don't be mad anymore, okay? I heard it's good for your skin."

I stared at the jar of honey, but ironically, all I tasted was bitterness.

At the hospital earlier that day, Summer had held ten jars of that same honey in her arms, looking both surprised and delighted. "Malcolm, I only mentioned it once. You actually flew all the way there to buy these for me?"

I'd stood outside the door and seen everything.

Compared to hers, the jar I got was so pitifully tiny that it looked more like a sample instead.

Malcolm and I had been dating for four years. He had the capacity to remember Summer's passing comment, yet failed to remember I was allergic to honey.

My eyes stung. I grabbed that jar of acacia honey and tossed it into the trash. "Let's break up, Malcolm."

He was in the middle of removing his suit when he froze at my words. Irritation settled over his face.

"Can you stop being so unreasonable for once?" he said. "There are already enough problems at the company. I don't have the time to spend guessing why you're upset again. Why can't you just be more like Summer? At least she's straightforward and speaks her mind."

People often revealed what they truly thought when they were angry.

Even Malcolm seemed startled by what he had said. He subconsciously clicked his tongue and let out a sigh.

This was the first time I'd heard him praise Summer. Before this, they had always been at odds. To their credit, I had never once suspected anything, not even the tiny details that would've raised eyebrows.

When Malcolm calmed down, he crouched before me and gently stroked my hair. "Alright, Willow. Let's not fight again. I'll apologize for whatever I did, okay? Once I secure the project next week, I'll take you on a vacation."

He wasn't apologizing because he was sorry. He was only afraid the project would slip away from his grasp.

Regardless, I moved into the spare bedroom. I packed up all my luggage and prepared to report to the international branch next week.

That night, my stomach pain struck again. Out of habit, I endured it silently. I didn't even bother putting on my slippers and walked to the living room to pour myself some water. Then I swallowed some painkillers.

My stomach problems had been around for years. Back when Malcolm had just started his company, he was constantly out drinking and entertaining clients. Every night, he would come home wasted.

I felt sorry for him, so I went with him to those gatherings and drank on his behalf. After a while, I ended up with a stomach condition.

There was one night when the pain was so excruciating that I couldn't even get out of bed. I asked Malcolm to bring me my medicine, but he didn't even open his eyes and said, "Just bear with it. I have work tomorrow. I need my sleep."

I broke out in a cold sweat from the pain and forced myself to endure the entire night. By the next morning, when I was rushed to the emergency room, I had already passed out from the pain.

The living room was dimly lit. I glanced toward the entrance and saw Malcolm's slippers tossed messily by the door, as though he had left in a hurry.

When I returned to the bedroom, I couldn't fall asleep, so I scrolled on my phone. That was when I saw Summer's latest social media post.

It was a photo showing a table full of food from all across the country, captioned, "Got hungry in the middle of the night. Thankfully, someone kind brought me food. What a wonderful night."

I buried my face in my knees and let out a bitter laugh.

If he wanted to, he would. In my case, I simply wasn't worth his effort.