Brendan Cook was a renowned geologist.

Eight months into my pregnancy, he gifted me a beautiful amethyst, and I thought it was a symbol of his affection. That belief was shattered on his birthday when I decided to surprise him by quietly sneaking into the trunk of his car.

I overheard him speaking to his lover, whom he called his "moonbeam."

“That amethyst,” he said, “I found it during a geological survey. It’s radioactive and will harm the baby.”

“When the time comes, I’ll persuade her to end the pregnancy so you won’t feel envious.”

I felt numb all over. Instead of making a scene, I calmly scheduled the procedure to terminate the pregnancy and sent a report to his workplace.

I had just hidden in the trunk when Brendan got into the car. At the same time, Violette Martinez joined him, settling into the passenger seat. Brendan gently fastened her seatbelt and tossed out the small pillow I used for lumbar support.

I froze, struggling to believe what I was seeing. But it was unmistakably Brendan.

“Come on, don’t be mad, Violette,” he whispered. “I know you don’t like Mackenzie’s things. See, I remembered to get rid of it for you.” Brendan stroked her cheek, and Violette smiled, playfully pouting.

“Dr. Cook is always so busy; I thought you might have forgotten me.”

“Forget you? Never.” Brendan nibbled on her ear. “You’re my treasure.”

My nails dug into the leather seat, half-kneeling in the trunk and witnessing all of this. Brendan was usually very busy, often traveling for surveys in the Alps. Because it was his birthday, I had planned to hide in the trunk to surprise him, but instead, he surprised me.

Violette’s face flushed with a bright red, yet there was still a trace of dissatisfaction. “I saw you gave Mackenzie an amethyst not long ago and claimed you didn’t love her!”

Brendan’s lips brushed against her ear.

“That amethyst is radioactive and will harm the baby she’s carrying.”

“When the time comes, I’ll persuade her to end the pregnancy so you won’t feel envious.”

These simple words hit me like a bomb. My grip tightened on the seat, nails breaking instantly. I nearly collapsed but held onto the seat with all my strength.

“Really?” Violette exclaimed in surprise.

“Of course. I know you’re upset she’s having my baby, so I devised this solution.”

“Now, you don’t have to be angry, right?”

Brendan was already undoing her Victorian-style dress.

I covered my mouth, trembling all over.

If I hadn’t gotten into the car today, I would never have known that what I held dear as a treasure was actually the weapon that would destroy my child!

I tore the amethyst from my neck and clenched it tightly in my hand.

That day marked the eighth month of my pregnancy. I went for a check-up, and everything was just perfect with the baby Brendan and I were expecting. I couldn't wait to get home and share the good news with Brendan. He was ecstatic, not only preparing a delicious meal but also presenting me with a beautifully crafted box containing a piece of amethyst.

He wrapped his arms around me and said, "I found this on one of my geological surveys. It's exceptionally beautiful and rare, so I decided to turn it into a necklace. Amethyst is supposed to bring good luck. I hope my dear Mackenzie will have a lifetime of blessing with it." I was overwhelmed with emotion, my eyes welling up with tears.

Since then, I've worn the amethyst every single day. It's been a whole month now! Who knows if it's affecting the baby. Brendan, how could you betray me like this?

Watching them from just a few feet away, hugging and holding each other tight, I bit my lip hard as tears fell uncontrollably. Brendan had already changed from his usual business attire, looking at Violette with tender eyes.

"Violette, you're the only person I've ever truly loved."

He was once my senior, admired by many women. I secretly had a crush on him, often sneaking into the office just to catch a glimpse. Back then, he was with Violette, and they went out together all the time. It hurt, but I was the one who came late to the party, and there was nothing I could do.

Later, Violette got an offer from an international research institute with a million-dollar annual salary. She chose her career and broke up with Brendan. Only after that did Brendan suddenly reach out to me.

He said, "I know you've had feelings for me for a long time, let's be together." Even though I knew he was with me out of spite towards Violette, I still agreed. I thought I could win his heart with time. Gradually, he treated me well and often declared that I was the only one he loved. So, I believed he had genuinely fallen for me.

Brendan Cook and Violette Martinez eventually wrapped up what they were doing about twenty minutes later. During this time, I had been watching them, gripping the seat so tightly that my fingers started to bleed. Violette leaned against Brendan, catching her breath.

Suddenly, she picked up a leather-bound journal from the center console. "What's this?"

I recognized it immediately—it was the journal where I recorded all the important details. Our seventh wedding anniversary was approaching, and Brendan had promised to take me on a trip to the Alps that day. I'd been carefully planning the itinerary, noting every detail in that journal.

"This belongs to Mackenzie," Brendan said quietly.

"Aren't we supposed to go to the Alps?" she asked, flipping through the pages. "She's got all the itineraries here, free of charge. Saves us the trouble."

I froze. So that was the plan—using my journal to plan a trip with someone else. I stared at Brendan, searching for any hint of regret in his eyes. But there was nothing. Not a single trace.

Violette laughed, "Imagine if Mackenzie finds out you're doing this behind her back; she'd blow a gasket."

Brendan pinched her waist playfully and chuckled, "She'll never find out."

But I have. Brendan, I heard everything.

As the car started moving, I had no choice but to lie down to keep steady. All I could hear was their flirty banter. Brendan and I have been together for seven years. In all that time, he's been distant and closed off, the type who rarely speaks. At home, his words to me rarely exceed ten sentences. Only now do I realize that his silence was reserved just for me.

I clutched my stomach, shaking with sobs. The amethyst pressed painfully into the palm of my hand. I had loved him quietly for three years, been married for seven. A whole decade.

How do I break free?