After being with Elliot, Millie’s dream had always been to visit an amusement park with him. But Elliot would brush off the idea whenever she brought it up, claiming it was childish and beneath him. He never once joined her.

It wasn’t until a few days ago, when she and Tiffany Molina took her son to the park, that she accidentally bumped into Elliot with Hilary. That’s when she realized how considerate Elliot could be.

For every toy Hilary showed the slightest interest in, Elliot immediately bought it for her. If Hilary so much as pouted, he’d be there with a bottle of water, ready to hand it to her.

Pirate ships, haunted houses, bumper cars—none mattered to him how juvenile the rides were. If Hilary wanted it, Elliot was right there, playing along with an eagerness Millie had never seen.

Their striking appearances caught the attention of passersby and soon enough, someone recognized Hilary and a crowd gathered, asking for autographs and photos.

While Hilary lowered her head to sign, Elliot stood quietly beside her, wrapping his arm protectively around her, shielding her from the swarm of people. His gaze never left her, his smile one of pure indulgence and pride.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Millie was about to turn down Elliot’s invitation to the park. But when she saw his message, something inside her shifted and she agreed.

They rode every ride in the park, but the joy she had once imagined was nowhere to be found.

It dawned on her—perhaps this was what expired happiness felt like.

During their breaks, Elliot kept glancing at his phone, his attention clearly elsewhere.

After finishing her ice cream cone, Millie stood up. “Let’s go back.”

She couldn’t help but wonder, was he eager to go back and see his little childhood sweetheart?

If she remembered correctly, today was Hilary’s birthday.

Their birthdays were only a day apart, but their lives had been worlds apart.

Hilary was always cherished, adored and surrounded by love. Everyone flocked to her, treating her like royalty. Even her own mother had chosen to love Hilary over her.

Back then, Millie had never imagined that she would see her mother again.

It was just an ordinary weekend afternoon. The school had set aside a few hours for parents to visit and many students eagerly awaited the sight of their mothers bringing home-cooked meals to brighten their days.

The dormitory was always filled with the mouth-watering aroma of various dishes. A roommate’s mother would often invite Millie to join them. Still, she always turned down the offer, pretending she had already eaten and retreating to the silence of her room.

That day, she heard a commotion echoing down the hallway. Curiosity piqued, she peered over, only to see Haley pushing a well-dressed woman out of the dorm room. The woman’s lunchbox, beautifully packed, fell to the ground with a loud crash, soup splashing across the floor.

"I’ve never seen anyone so shameless!" Haley snapped, her voice dripping with venom. "Throwing yourself at someone else’s child! If you can’t have your own, go find a stray dog on the street…"

Her cruel words cut through the air, catching the attention of other parents nearby, who hurried to intervene. But Haley didn’t stop—she pointed at the woman, her accusations growing sharper with every word.

But the woman simply smiled, an apologetic curve of her lips. She crouched down, silently wiping up the mess.

At that moment, Millie rushed forward, her heart pounding in her chest as though a force beyond her control had taken over. Grabbing the woman’s arm, she trembled, her voice a whisper barely above the noise of her racing thoughts.

"Mom..."

Haley’s eyes widened in disbelief. "She’s your mom?"

The woman, who had remained so calm, now looked at Millie with wide, shocked eyes. Her gaze softened as tears gathered in her almond-shaped eyes. She gently pushed Millie’s hand away, her smile laced with bitterness.

"Child, you’ve got the wrong person."

From that moment onward, rumors and bullying began to take root, spreading like venomous snakes, tightening their grip around Millie. The more she fought back, the fiercer the punishment grew.

And then, Elliot appeared.

He stepped in, a shield against the harshness and cruelty, protecting her from the relentless torment that had threatened to swallow her whole. He was her guardian for three years, allowing her to breathe in the suffocating chaos of high school.

To Millie, Elliot was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, a beacon of warmth in a world that had always seemed so dark and cold.

She pursued him with the same fervor as a moth to a flame—changing her career dreams and following him to the same university, all for the chance to become someone worthy in his eyes.

Millie had once thought that Elliot had pulled her from the mud, that he was the one to lift her out of the dirt. But in the end, he had simply used her as a pawn.

She believed she had married for love, only to realize, too late, that her heart had been wasted on someone undeserving.

But it no longer mattered.

This time, it was Millie who didn’t want Elliot.

This time, she would be the one to walk away first.

***

After dropping Millie off at home, Elliot rushed off to Hilary’s birthday party.

It was supposed to be an intimate gathering—one where Millie never belonged. Yet, despite her better judgment, she couldn’t resist the birthday girl’s eager invitation.

The taxi came to a halt halfway up the mountain and as Millie entered the villa, fireworks lit up the sky.

A series of sharp pops echoed in the air, followed by a cascade of colorful sparks and streamers raining down from above. Laughter and cheers spilled out from the villa’s open doors.

In the center of the crowd stood Hilary, a birthday hat perched jauntily on her head. She closed her eyes, making a wish with a smile that could outshine the fireworks.

Someone, emboldened by mischief, grabbed a handful of cake, aiming to smear it on Hilary’s face. But before they could act, Elliot stepped in.

He wrapped Hilary in his arms, gently pulling the streamers from her hair. His protective gaze swept over the crowd to shoo away his rowdy friends.

“Watch it. My girl likes to look nice. Don’t ruin it,” he said, his tone firm but playful.

The words were barely out of his mouth when a wave of teasing rippled through the crowd.

Though Millie had braced herself for such a scene, witnessing it firsthand was like a slap to her face.

A sharp, painful knot twisted in her stomach and she fought to keep the rising nausea at bay. Her temples pulsed with every beat of her heart.

She caught someone beside Elliot nudging his arm and pointing in her direction.

When Elliot saw her, the smile on his lips faltered, freezing into a stiff line. His gaze turned icy as he scanned the room, silencing anyone bold enough to meet his eyes.

Hilary, however, remained unshaken. She approached with a bright, unfazed smile.

"Millie is a friend I invited," she said casually. "We were classmates once, always joking around. When I learned that Elliot’s wife was you—"

"Haley!"

Hilary had used her stage name, but Elliot always called her "Hale" in private. He never used her full name.

Hilary knew she had crossed a line, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she clung to Elliot’s arm and pouted playfully.

"Elliot, don’t be upset."

"I invited Millie because we had some misunderstandings in the past. Now that she’s your wife, that makes her my sister-in-law. I just wanted to apologize first."

Her words were carefully crafted, softening Elliot’s expression almost immediately.

"I was immature before," Hilary continued, her voice sugary sweet. "Let me toast to you. From now on, we’re all friends."

She raised her glass, but Elliot swiftly took it from her, replacing it with juice.

"Who taught you this? You can’t hold your liquor—behave," he chided, his tone gentle but firm.

Hilary dropped her gaze with a soft chuckle, handing a new glass to Millie.

"My tolerance really is bad," she confessed, a teasing glint in her eye. "Even though I’ve been in the industry for a while, Elliot has always protected me, so I never picked up the drinking habit. I hope you don’t mind, Millie. Elliot cares so much about me, so I’ll toast you with juice instead."

Her words seemed sincere, but Millie could see the smugness flickering in her eyes—remnants of the same arrogance Hilary had shown when she’d dragged Millie into the restroom and slammed her head against the wall.

And just like before, Hilary ended it with a light, insincere apology, as though it could wipe away all the harm she’d done.

Millie hesitated, her fingers brushing the glass, but she was unable to bring herself to take it. Just then, someone nearby spoke up in defense of Hilary.

"Enough already. Stop acting so high and mighty."

"Come on, Millie," another voice chimed in. "Hale’s already taken a step back. What happened is in the past. There’s no need to keep holding a grudge over some childish squabbles."

Elliot swiftly took the glass from Hilary’s hand and handed it to Millie, his face setting into an unreadable mask.

"I hope you two can get along."

Millie stared at him and then suddenly, a soft laugh escaped her lips.

"Childish squabbles…"

He had never known the icy sting of cold water over his head in the dead of winter, the searing burn of a cigarette pressed to his skin, or the desperation of swallowing sleeping pills just to escape the night.

What gave him the right to forgive on her behalf?

Elliot frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but Millie suddenly snatched the glass from his hand and downed it swiftly.

The wine spilled, dribbling down her delicate neck and she coughed violently, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Elliot’s chest tightened painfully, a flicker of guilt gnawing at him.

Before he could react, Millie collapsed into his arms, her breathing shallow and skin flushed.

Someone nearby whispered, "Is she allergic to alcohol?"

The words snapped him back to reality. "Damn it," he muttered, grabbing her and rushing toward the garage.

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he have forgotten?

When Millie finally stirred again, an IV line was running into her arm.

Elliot sat at her side, watching her intently, his red-rimmed eyes betraying the emotions he tried to suppress.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"There was no need," she replied, turning her face away.

Elliot grabbed her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his.

"You’re pregnant. I’m the father. And you think it’s unnecessary to tell me?"

Millie stayed silent, her expression unreadable, but Elliot suddenly buried his face in the crook of her neck. She couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying.

"I’m going to be a father," he murmured repeatedly, his voice trembling with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. Warm tears fell against her shoulder, leaving her frozen in place.

Were they tears of joy—or something else entirely?

After three long years of marriage, she had never conceived. The doctors had told her she suffered from polycystic ovary syndrome, making it nearly impossible to get pregnant.

She had made peace with the idea of never having children, yet now, against all odds, a tiny spark of life had taken root.

Her hand instinctively rested on her flat belly, emotions churning like a storm within her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Hilary glaring at her through the small window of the hospital door, her expression dark and piercing.

Millie reclined against the pillows, her face a picture of calm, but her lips curled into a faint, mocking smile.

For the next few days, Elliot barely left her side, eagerly trying to win her over with his cooking.

His culinary skills were remarkable, surpassing even the finest restaurants she’d known.

But she could count the times she’d tasted his cooking on one hand.

Once, during her senior year of college, she had been drowning in the demands of her thesis, internships and tutoring jobs, often skipping meals entirely. One night, she woke doubled over in pain from a stomachache. That was the first time Elliot cooked for her—a simple plate of fried rice.

It had been the most satisfying meal of her life.

She had always wondered how someone raised in luxury, surrounded by chefs and maids, had learned to cook so well. Later, she found out.

Hilary was a notoriously picky eater. During her years abroad, Elliot took six months of cooking lessons just so he could fly out and prepare her favorite hometown dishes every month.

Since then, whenever Millie was too swamped to cook, she’d jokingly ask Elliot to cook for her again. But he always refused. If her persistence annoyed him, he would order takeout instead.

The reason?

Hilary’s jealousy. She had forbidden him from cooking for anyone else. Like so much else, his skills in the kitchen had been reserved exclusively for her.

Millie glanced at the table brimming with dishes made to suit her tastes, but the sight only deepened her unease. Taking a few bites out of obligation, she excused herself and walked to the bathroom.

Once inside, her stomach rebelled. She gripped the edge of the sink; her body wracked with spasms until the contents of her meal were forced up. A sharp pain clawed at her abdomen and an acrid metallic taste filled her mouth.

She leaned over the sink as crimson blood spilled past her lips, vivid against the white porcelain. Her hands trembled as she turned on the faucet, watching the water sweep away every trace of her struggle, leaving the sink pristine once more.

Outside, Elliot banged on the door with urgency. The sound echoed like a heartbeat, each knock filled with tension.

The door opened abruptly and before Millie could react, Elliot pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, his embrace both firm and desperate.