When Carolyn opened her eyes, she was in a hospital room.

“You’re awake?” A nurse approached, adjusting her IV. “How are you feeling? When they brought you in, you were white as a sheet—you really gave us a scare.”

From the nurse, Carolyn learned the property manager had rushed her here and immediately tried to contact Roger in the owners’ group chat.

Roger had only snapped, “She’s a grown woman. Is this really worth bothering me about?”

Then he hung up.

Not one message of concern had appeared on her phone.

A bitter ache tightened in Carolyn’s chest. He must have forgotten—she was claustrophobic.

But back in high school, when bullies locked her in that pitch-black storage room, it was Roger who smashed the door open. Ignoring his bleeding hands, he pulled her into his arms.

“Don’t be afraid, Carolyn. I’ve got you.”

His voice had trembled. The next day, he beat those bullies black and blue.

“She’s claustrophobic! Terrified of the dark! Do you realize she almost went into shock?!”

Roger went wild, earning himself a major disciplinary mark.

He also made sure the whole school knew—the lonely, unprotected girl named Carolyn had someone watching over her.

So when had he started to forget?

Carolyn pulled the IV needle from her hand. The nurse gasped. “Hey—what are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I don’t need this.”

“What do you mean, fine? You’re going to be a mother now. You can’t afford to be reckless.”

The words struck Carolyn like a blow. She stiffened, turning back. “A mother? Me?”

The nurse looked concerned. “When you passed out, we ran some tests. Our department head reviewed the results personally. You’re three months pregnant. Didn’t you notice any symptoms?”

Carolyn’s mind went blank. The nurse’s lips moved, but she heard nothing.

Why now? Why, of all times, when they were about to divorce?

Numbly, she walked out of the room, unsure how to face the news.

Just then, Roger came hurrying down the hall.

Carolyn stopped—but he walked right past as if she weren’t there, turning instead toward a consultation room around the corner.

For a moment, she stood frozen. Then, almost against her will, she followed.

It was the gynecology department.

A few minutes later, Catherine stepped out holding a medical report, eyes red. Roger was beside her.

They paused near the stairwell.

Catherine wept. “You heard the doctor. Ever since… since the abortion, my periods have been irregular, and the cramps won’t stop. It’s a uterine lining rupture. I… I might never be able to have children.”

Then Roger’s voice cut in, soft and low.

“Shh, don’t worry, love. We’ll have a child. I promise.”

“I still dream about the baby you lost because of me.”

Catherine sobbed harder. “If our child were still here, they’d be in elementary school by now. Swear to me—swear you’ll only ever have children with me.”

Roger drew her into a tight embrace.

“I swear. Only yours.”

“But what if your wife is pregnant…?”

Roger paused, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

Catherine’s voice turned sharp, desperate.

“Then get a vasectomy—after I’m pregnant!”

Carolyn’s heart clenched.

She expected Roger to refuse, to lose his temper.

Instead, he hesitated only a moment before murmuring gently, “Alright. Whatever you want.”

Catherine finally stopped crying, her smile returning as she took Roger’s arm and walked away.

A bitter smile touched Carolyn’s lips.

So Roger loved Catherine that much—he was even willing to get a vasectomy, just to have children with her alone.

Her hand drifted to her abdomen, to the three-month-old life growing inside.

Well, she was remarrying soon anyway. An unwanted child would only bring more pain.

Wiping her tears, Carolyn made a call.

“Schedule an abortion for me. Now.”

The procedure was quick.

She hadn’t even had a moment to rest before Roger called.

“Carolyn, you’re not home?”

Her voice felt numb. “What do you want?”

He paused, then spoke with forced patience. “Alright, sweetheart, enough with the tantrum. I had an anniversary gift custom-made for you. Come home and see it.”

Dragging her aching body, Carolyn returned.

The moment she opened the door, she saw the uninvited guest.

“Oh, Carolyn, you’re back?”

Catherine stood in the living room directing workers like she owned the place—more the lady of the house than Carolyn had ever been.

In the center of the room stood a sculpture half a person tall.

But when the cloth was pulled away, Carolyn’s eyes widened in shock.

Naked bodies intertwined. A woman pinned beneath several men, her face etched with rapture.

And the woman’s face… was unmistakably hers.

“You—!”

Catherine’s smile was venomous. “What’s wrong, Carolyn? Don’t you like it? Roger specially commissioned this as your birthday gift. Art imitates life, after all. I personally hired a master sculptor. Look at that face—it’s you, isn’t it?”

Before she finished, Carolyn’s hand shot out, slapping her hard across the face.

Her heart felt torn open.

This sculpture… it was a grotesque mockery of the assault she’d survived!

A triumphant gleam flashed in Catherine’s eyes before she burst into tears, her gaze shifting behind Carolyn. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Carolyn! I don’t know what I did wrong, but please, don’t hit me…”

“Catherine!”

The next second, a powerful shove sent Carolyn sprawling to the floor.

“Carolyn, how dare you! Why would you hit her?”

Stunned, she looked up at Roger, who had rushed over. The eyes that once held so much love for her now burned with resentment.

“Why…”

Her voice broke, tears falling freely. “Why did you tell her? Why!”

That was her most painful, buried memory—the secret Roger had once sworn to take to his grave. Now Catherine was using it to mock her, tearing open a scar that had barely healed, forcing her to remember the shame forever.

Only then did Roger seem to notice the sculpture.

Catherine whimpered, playing the victim. “I’m sorry, Roger. I didn’t know Mrs. Carolyn would hate the sculpture I chose so much. I’ll kneel and apologize to her…”

Roger shielded Catherine protectively, his eyes full of disappointment as they landed on Carolyn.

“I chose the gift. Why take it out on Catherine? Apologize to her. Now.”

Carolyn opened her mouth to argue, but a sharp, post-procedure pain shot through her—a brutal reminder.

What was the point of reasoning with him now? Whoever he loved, he would defend.

“Roger, I won’t apologize. She knows exactly what she was trying to do.” She took a slow, pained breath. “And one more thing. I want a divorce.”