On the same day I was admitted into the hospital for my pregnancy, my husband, Charles Page, received 108 missed calls on his phone. It was from Sue, his mentee, a girl who had cancer.

I asked if he was going to pick up, and he replied impatiently, "All she does is call me all day! Doesn't she have any other family? She's so annoying."

Later, that very girl posted a photo of herself on the hospital rooftop, wearing a white dress.

The caption said: [If I jump down from here, will I become a butterfly in my next life? Maybe then, everyone won't hate me.]

Charles only glanced at the post before chuckling mockingly. "What does she mean, turn into a butterfly? Is she delusional?"

But after that, he grew visibly restless, before rushing out and not returning all night.

That night, I hemorrhaged and was taken into emergency care.

When the nurse asked if I wanted to keep the baby, I looked at the empty space beside me and answered calmly.

"No, I don't."

When the anaesthesia wore off and I woke up again, it was already the next afternoon.

I lifted my hand and caressed my stomach, which had become flat. My sleeve slid down because of the movement, revealing the bruised and swollen back of my hand.

Ever since I was little, I had always been absolutely terrified of being injected with needles, yet I endured more than 300 injections to save the baby Charles and I had conceived.

Yet, in the twenty-seven hours between me being rushed into surgery last night and now, he hadn't returned.

As if on cue, my mobile phone rang with a notification from where it lay on the bedside cabinet.

It was a message from Charles, yet not one asking about my nor the baby's health. No, it was a simple voice message that said, "Sue got a fever after being on the rooftop for so long last night. Her parents are out of town, and her brother doesn't care for her, so I'm the only person who can help her out. What a hassle."

Even though he said it was a hassle, there was a small hint of fondness in the way he spoke, so imperceptible that I doubt even he realized it was there.

Looking at his profile picture, which had been changed to a picture of a knight, I replied, "Got it."

Then, I tapped on Instagram.

Sue had posted a photo of her left hand attached to an IV drip with the caption: [You are my salvation.]

Meanwhile, her profile picture had been changed to a princess who was being protected by a knight.

In the top left corner of the photo, a pair of hands that clearly belonged to a man was captured in the shot as well, almost as if it were unintentional. The owner of those hands was carefully helping her hold the IV tube, warming it and the fluid within with his palm.

Immediately, I knew that those hands belonged to Charles. There was a small scar on the second knuckle of his index finger on his right hand, left behind when he stood up for me when I was bullied in high school.

However, his ring finger that originally had a wedding band on it was conspicuously bare, with only a faint mark remaining.

My lips curled in a quiet, mocking smile, before I commented: [What a perfect match.]

Then, I tapped on my own account and swiftly changed my profile picture from our wedding photo to what it was before he confessed to me.

Barely a minute had passed before the post was deleted, and I immediately received a call from Charles.

"Anne, didn't I already explain to you that Sue's family isn't around to take care of her? She's sick, so I'm just doing what I can as her mentor to take care of her. Besides, she's troublesome enough, so could you not kick up a fuss too?"

Ah, troublesome, the word Charles most often used to describe Sue.

Back when the younger girl first joined the company, she didn't even know how to operate the printer. She was clumsy, airheaded, and always trailed behind Charles, asking him about everything and anything. Charles used to complain to me nonstop about her, talking about how she was slow and troublesome.

He'd always have a habit of sharing interesting things that happened to him at work, but at some point, all his stories were all about her.

"Anne, that girl can't even figure out how to use a can opener! It's a wonder she has survived adulthood."

"Sue printed the wrong documents today and got me in a lot of trouble at the company meeting! I swear, I'll tell HR to fire her someday!"

He had always said he'd ask for her to be transferred to another team, yet she was by his side all the way up till she got sick.

Then, I watched him change her contact from 'Troublemaker' to 'Dum Dum'.

Fast forward to today, and who was I to ignore the signs when they were right in front of me?

I listened calmly, not having even the urge to debate him, and I chuckled. "Yeah, I understand."

Clearly, he hadn't expected me to be so calm about it. Thinking that I was playing some sort of mind game with him, his tone softened. "I'll get you your favorite cupcakes from Breads & Bakes, alright? So please…"

Before he could even finish, Sue's weak, teary voice interrupted him. "Charles, the IV is backflowing…"

And just like that, all of his attention was pulled away in an instant. From the other end of the phone, I heard his panicked voice. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Does it hurt?"

Sue sniffled softly and said it didn't.

Worried sick, he chided, "Silly, couldn't you at least call on the nurses?"

"Sorry for causing you trouble, Charles…" Sue's voice trailed sadly.

After that, I heard Charles let out a sigh and continued saying something to Sue, but he'd already put down the phone at that point so I couldn't hear anything clearly.

Not that I wanted to, anyway.

Even though my stomach was growling in hunger just a few moments ago, the nausea from witnessing how Charles treated Sue welled up like bile in my throat, quelling my appetite completely.

I ended the call.

Right then, the nurse pushed the door open and started to remove the needle from my hand.

"You can be discharged, but since you just went through an induced labor, you've got to rest and recover as much as possible, alright?"

The only response I could muster was a soft hum of acknowledgement.

On the taxi ride home, I forwarded the divorce agreement Charles had drafted personally before our wedding to my lawyer friend.

I said, "If there are no issues with the agreement, print two sets out as soon as you can. The sooner I get a divorce, the better."

Quickly, my friend responded, "Will do."

In the past, to reassure me of our marriage, Charles had drafted this divorce agreement himself. If he ever cheated on me or fell out of love, he'd give up his company and all his assets, leaving the marriage with nothing to his name.

Back then, his eyes were filled with nothing but love when he looked at me, and he was certain that he would never break his vows of love for me.

Sadly, time was enough to change everything, even the sweetest vows.

When I got home, it was already six in the evening. Due to the warm weather, the food that we'd set out on the dining table two days ago had already gone bad, filling the house with a sour, rotten stench.

Clearly, Charles hadn't even returned home in the past two days.

Forcing myself to take a shower, I took some painkillers to quell the pain in my stomach before promptly falling asleep in the guest bedroom.

In the middle of the night, the front door swung open, and the culprit rushed all the way past the master bedroom to the guest bedroom, before—

Bam!

The door was kicked open, shaking me awake.

The next moment, the lights were turned on, revealing Charles' face, brows knitted tight.

"I'm your husband, Anne! How could you get discharged from the hospital without even telling me?"

When I was finally able to get used to the light and open my eyes fully, I saw Charles standing there at the doorway, panting as he held a bunch of cupcakes in his hand. His expression was cold and filled with blame.

There, peeking out behind him, was Sue, wearing a men's hoodie that was obviously a few sizes too large for her, her pale face framed by her long, black hair. Notably, she didn't seem to be wearing any pants under the hoodie, her legs slender, pale, and impossible to miss.

I recognized the hoodie immediately. It was my birthday gift to Charles earlier this year, after all.

Funnily enough, I distinctly remembered him telling me that he'd lost this hoodie just a month ago.

Not noticing that he'd been exposed for one of his lies, he flung the pack of cupcakes straight at me without warning. I couldn't dodge in time, and my body was smudged with icing, cold and sticky against my skin.

Clearly filled to the brim with self-righteous rage, Charles pointed at me and yelled, each word filled with blame, "How could you get discharged from the hospital without telling me? Didn't you hear the doctor say that your pregnancy was unstable, and that you could get a miscarriage at any moment?! Anne, can't you be a little more mature?

"I've been looking for you for half an hour! Would it kill you to tell me that you were discharged?!"

My expression remained calm, and I explained, "I wanted to tell you, but you were busy taking care of Sue."

Sue stepped out from behind Charles and looked at me, before tugging at his shirt, her face pale and filled with guilt. "Charles, did I cause you two trouble again?"

"Not this time, Sue." Charles soothed her gently, before glaring at me once more. "I knew you were craving cupcakes, so I bought you some immediately after Sue finished getting an IV drip. Yet, when I got to the hospital, the nurses told me you'd been discharged!

"I already told you that Sue has no one to take care of her, so I'm just doing what I can for her as her mentor! Why did you have to make a big deal out of this?"

He thought that I only left the hospital because he went to take care of Sue, and that I was just being petty.

Honestly, I probably should have explained the situation to him, but I really didn't want to waste my time and energy. It was bound to be futile, after all.

I turned to glance at Sue as I replied, "Didn't you say that she was terribly sick? Why did you drag her all the way here instead of letting her rest at the hospital?"

Charles froze, clearly not anticipating me to divert from the topic so quickly, before his expression tightened. "No one was there to take care of her, and it would be less troublesome to take care of her at home, so I brought her here."

Right then, Sue followed up with, "Sorry, Anne. If it's too much trouble, I'll leave immediately…"

Before I could even respond, Charles replied, "Stay. You don't need her permission."

As if he was getting back at me for getting discharged without his permission, he told her that she didn't need my permission to stay at my house, either.

I thought about it for a bit, before my gaze met his, cold and chilly. "Well, we haven't cleaned the guest bedroom in a while, so how about we let her sleep in the master bedroom instead?"

My tone was completely sincere, yet it clearly didn't come across that way to Charles, whose expression contorted in anger, "How many times do I need to tell you that Sue and I are just colleagues, not whatever it is you think we are! She's an airhead and her family isn't around, so what's wrong with taking care of her?!

"I always thought you were a generous person, but it seems you're no better than all the jealous and petty women out there!"

His expression was filled with disappointment, as if I'd committed some unforgivable, grave mistake.

Besides, how was what I said petty or jealous at all? I just talked about letting her stay in the master bedroom, after all.

Sue tugged at his shirt again, as timid as a mouse. "There's really no need to accommodate me if it's too much trouble… really! I wouldn't ever forgive myself if I drove a wedge between you two!"

After that, she turned to leave, but Charles grabbed her wrist. "There's nothing going on between us, so there's no need to do that. Besides, Anne's letting you sleep in the master bedroom anyway, so just stay."

"Then what about her? Where's she going to stay?" Sue glanced at me, her expression confused.

Charles scoffed. "She can live wherever she wants."

After that, he pulled her out of the room by her wrist, leaving me in the room, the pain in my stomach pricking at my senses.

Finally, there was no place left for me in my own home.

I rented an apartment outside.

After that night, I hadn't even seen Charles for days. Meanwhile, my lawyer friend had already finished checking the divorce agreement, and had sent me the final copy. After checking through it, I asked her to send it to Charles in my stead.

After that, there was nothing but silence, as if it were a rock that had sunk into the sea.

One afternoon, I got a call from Charles' assistant. "Ma'am, Mr. Page says that he's been in contact with the hospital. Your baby can be delivered after a week via C-section, so please start packing your things and getting ready.

"Also, he's seen the divorce agreement. He thinks it's beneath you to get so jealous over a girl who's younger than you. He's been taking care of you ever since you got married, and all your expenses have been paid from his accounts since you haven't been working, either. If you apologize to him, he'll consider all of it water under the bridge.

"However, if you insist on being stubborn, he says he won't pay for your living expenses anymore in the future."

I chuckled. "Is that what he told you?"

There was a confused pause on the other end of the line, before he replied, "Yes."

"Alright."

Clearly, Charles thought that I was still pregnant with his baby, even ordering me to have a C-section at the hospital.

However, I'd already had a miscarriage the day he left me to take care of Sue.

I didn't bother explaining any further to the assistant, ending the call on my end. After that, I didn't bother to go look for Charles, only living my life as I normally would as I waited for the week to pass.

That morning, I put on a long-flowing dress, and headed to the hospital in the car Charles' assistant had arranged to pick me up. I brought the pair of ceramic dolls Charles had made for me when he confessed to me to cover my stomach, obscuring the fact that it was already flat.

I arrived at the hospital half an hour later, where I finally met Charles after so many days apart.

When I pushed the door open, I saw him picking fish bones out of Sue's food. The latter shrank into Charles' arms the moment she saw me, as if I were some sort of terrifying ghost.

In any case, why was she even here?

As if he'd read my mind, Charles explained, "She just went through chemotherapy a few days ago, so her immune system's weak. I got her to the hospital because she got a cold two days ago."

"Alright," I replied calmly.

Not noticing the undercurrent of my emotions, he continued, "I've already signed the agreement for your C-section, so the doctors will come and perform surgery on you in just a bit."

At that, he deliberately paused and stepped closer, speaking to me in that same tone he always used when he wanted to smooth things over, "After the baby's born, you'll still be my wife, the mother of our baby. Don't get jealous over these little things again, alright?"

After he finished giving his piece, he didn't even wait for an answer from me before turning to call the doctors, but I immediately cut him off.

"No need. I just came to tell you that there's no need to perform surgery on me anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean…?" Charles' expression was that of clear confusion.

The very next moment, I loosened my grip on the ceramic dolls, allowing them to hit the floor and shatter into white dust.

His calm expression froze, then darkened completely.

Grinding his teeth, he turned to look at me, but when he saw my flat stomach, he stiffened completely, and when he spoke, even his tone changed.

"Your stomach… What happened to our baby?!"