I'm finally pregnant after five years of marriage. I initially want Morgan Holt to accompany me to the hospital so I can surprise him, but he stoically tells me that he hates hospitals.

I can understand and accommodate that. Then, he surprises me—he accompanies his new junior to the hospital for a medical checkup.

At that moment, I know our relationship is over.

When I bid him farewell, I say, "She's your true love's younger sister, right? I can understand why you've transferred your love to her. I wish you two well."

His eyes redden. "I can't live without you."

I was taken aback when I saw Morgan Holt. He was accompanying a young woman as she had her blood taken.

That morning, I'd asked him whether he could accompany me to the hospital while holding onto a pregnancy test. He'd looked at me with unconcealed disgust and irritation. "Don't you know I hate hospitals, Willow?"

I knew that, but this was my first time asking him for something like this. Couldn't he go along with me just once? We'd been looking forward to this child for five years.

"I want—" I wanted to tell him it was a surprise, but he glanced at his watch and hurried off. He didn't even take the breakfast I'd prepared for him. Maybe he was in a rush for class…

I'd always been good at making excuses for him. It was like a reflex action. Now, however, seeing him carefully hold a piece of cotton wool to the young woman's arm, I felt like I didn't need to find excuses for him anymore.

I forced a smile and approached them, greeting, "Hi! What a coincidence!"

Nobody responded. The young woman's eyes turned red, and she tugged on Morgan's sleeve fearfully.

I found this funny. I turned to Morgan. He seemed to have forgotten that he didn't like hospitals or couldn't handle the sight of the blood. He merely looked at me indifferently and said, "You should head home if you're done with your checkup."

"Alright."

He was used to giving out orders, and I was used to obeying them.

It was my turn to collect my medication at the dispensary. I was about to pay when he ran over to me and asked, "Are… Are you unwell anywhere? What do the results say?"

His voice was still cold and distant, but there was the slightest hint of anxiety in it. It was a far cry from how gentle he'd been with the young woman, though.

I folded my receipt and results in half before stuffing them into my bag. My tone was equally cold and distant as I said, "I'm fine."

It wasn't any of his business anymore.

…

I headed home. Morgan texted me as soon as I entered the house. This was his first time taking the initiative to ask whether I'd gotten home safely.

I remembered how he would never have chosen to send me home whenever we had gatherings with our friends. He would say, "This isn't too far from your place, Willow. You can just walk home."

When I chose places further away, he would say, "I'll call you an Uber."

Long story short, Isabel Lane was the only one he wanted to send home. But… she'd already died eight years ago.

Suddenly, something possessed me and made me scour my social media like a madwoman. Then, the realization dawned on me.

…

I packed my things after deciding to leave. Halfway through, Morgan returned.

He placed a gift bag before me, looking a little upset. "Why didn't you reply to me, Willow?"

Yeah. Why hadn't I replied?

I'd always loved texting him. I'd wanted to share everything with him, whether they were just pretty things, yummy food, or fun events. He'd never replied.

Later, I'd switched tactics. Instead of sharing, I'd switched to making requests.

"When you pass by Sense on your way home, can you get me a cup of bubble tea?

"I'm grocery shopping. What do you want for dinner?

"I forgot to get groceries. Should we eat out?"

These messages went unanswered, too.

I could only comfort myself and tell myself Morgan was just unromantic and didn’t understand these things. He didn't like replying to messages when he was at home, too.

But a year ago, he'd changed. The moment his phone pinged, he would drop everything to reply immediately. I'd been filled with jealousy at this sight. "Who's that? Why are they texting you so late?"

He would frown, impatient at my question. He wouldn't even bother looking up. "She's a junior who wants to get a job at my college. I need to reply to her quickly so she doesn't get anxious."

My heart sank at those words. So, he knew the other party wouldn't feel good if their messages weren't replied to. He just didn't care whether I, Willow Grant, would feel bad.

I'd always immediately replied to Morgan's messages. This time, however, I hadn't checked my phone at all. I shrugged nonchalantly and said, "I was busy. I didn't look at my phone."

It was what he always said to brush me off. Now, it was my turn to use it on him.

His expression darkened at my words, and he sneered. "All I did was accompany a junior to the hospital. Do you need to throw a tantrum over such a small matter?"

"I'm not." I was telling the truth, but he didn't believe me.

I hadn't worked for two years, and he used that to mock me. "It's necessary for colleagues to help each other, especially since I'm her senior. You might not have worked for some time, but have you forgotten how to be a proper human being?"

He wasn't wrong about me not working, but it was because I was trying to conceive. I needed to get ovulation injections in preparation for pregnancy.

Whenever we argued over the past two years, he would mock me for being cut off from society. Then, he would wait for me to grow insecure, throw a tantrum, and give in to him.

This time, however, I didn't cry or pester him to tell me why he'd married me. All I said was, "You can think whatever you want."

I poured myself a glass of water and turned to head back to the room. Morgan grabbed my arm and pursed his lips before pushing the gift bag into my hand. "This is for you."

"I know."

He'd never given me anything for our anniversaries. Whenever I asked him about it, he would say, "Are you that materialistic?"

I'd long since stopped hoping for gifts. Besides… Iris Lane had shared a photo of herself at a shopping mall two hours ago. Morgan's figure had been in one corner of the picture.

I poured his so-called gifts out of the bag, wanting to laugh when I saw the lipsticks, loose powders, and foundations before me. "I don't wear makeup. You should give these things to someone else."

"Don't be unreasonable, Willow!" He stalked toward me, his expression menacing.

I subconsciously backed away and tripped over something. I fell to the floor, and my stomach started hurting. I cried about wanting to go to the hospital, but Morgan merely sneered at me and said I was making a mountain out of a molehill.

But he followed me when he saw me struggle to my feet and grab my phone before leaving the house. "I'll take you to the hospital."

It was better than taking a cab. Something felt wrong with my stomach, so I didn't turn him down.

After getting into the front passenger seat, I smelled the remnants of food. I saw some crumbs and food packaging in the crevice on the door handle.

Morgan followed my line of sight. His expression shifted. "She has anemia and almost fainted from hunger."

I smiled. "It's fine. You don't need to explain anything."

He was a germaphobe and never allowed me to eat in the car. Once, I'd been starving after doing a medical checkup on an empty stomach. I'd grabbed a chocolate bar from my bag, wanting to take a few bites to alleviate my hunger. Even then, Morgan had kicked me out of the car.

What was there to explain when he treated me and someone else so differently?

A brief silence descended upon the car. Then, Morgan looked at me oddly. "Aren't you going to ask me anything?"

Oh, I used to love asking him these things. The slightest thing out of the ordinary would put me on the edge of my seat. Things were different now, though. I was already prepared for a divorce. What was there to ask?

All I asked was, "How long will it take to get to the hospital?"

"Soon enough," he forced through gritted teeth. Seemingly trying to upset me, he put the pedal to the metal. I gripped the edges of my seat tightly, telling myself we would arrive soon.

However, Morgan's phone rang when we were at the final traffic light before arriving at the hospital. He glanced at me oddly before answering it through the car's Bluetooth. When the call connected, I heard Iris weep and say she'd fallen while cleaning the house. She couldn't get up.

He evidently didn't think she was being pretentious after falling. He turned the car around when the light turned green. This pissed me off.

I tapped on the window and said, "I want to get off here."

His expression turned ugly. "You're the most unsympathetic person I've ever met, Willow."

He ignored me and drove to Iris' apartment.

I'd broken out in a cold sweat from the pain by now, and my back was drenched. I curled up by the side of the road and called for an ambulance. Just as it arrived, Morgan came down with Iris in his arms. "Don't be scared, okay? The hospital's right in front."

She looked innocent and harmless as she curled up in his arms. Her eyes focused on the ambulance, and she said, "It really hurts. Can I get in the ambulance, too? I really need to lie down…"

Ambulances couldn't fit two patients at once. It was like how one man couldn't have two wives. Morgan knew that, so he turned to me and said, "There's nothing wrong with you, Willow. Let the ambulance take Iris first."

Just then, a nurse approached us. "We can only allow one patient in and one more person to accompany her."

Her gaze traveled between us uncertainly. "Who called the ambulance?"

"I did." I held up my hand and turned to look at Morgan. "Sorry about this—I can give up my husband, but not the ambulance."

I'd said that to mock Morgan and Iris, but he only paid attention to the second half of my sentence. He glared at me before turning to the nurse. "Shouldn't the ambulance take the patient who requires more attention?"

It was too bad she didn't want to have anything to do with him after realizing what a scumbag he was. She helped me into the ambulance and shut the door. "Whoever calls for the ambulance will get to use it. Unlike a certain someone, we don't get sidetracked by other people and things."

I couldn't help finding her rather amusing. I lay on the stretcher before losing consciousness.

…

When I woke up again, I saw my regular doctor looking at me sympathetically. "You've lost the child."

He looked even sadder than I felt. I supposed it made sense—he knew how much I'd suffered for this child and all the injections I'd gotten. It was also he who'd congratulated me that morning. "Congratulations! You've finally gotten pregnant."

It had only been less than 12 hours since then…

I nodded silently, feeling the tears stream down my face. It was good, really. This way, there would no longer be anything between Morgan and me.

The doctor advised, "You should ask your family to come and care for you."

I considered it, then decided to hire a caregiver. After that, I drifted in and out of sleep until my phone woke me up. It was 1:00 am, and I had countless unanswered calls.

I sighed and answered this one.

Morgan said, "Iris' ankle is swollen, so it's inconvenient for her to move around. I'm staying to care for her."