My husband insisted that I wear high heels at the company’s annual meeting despite being pregnant. He compared me to his female secretary with a look of disdain.

"Can’t you learn from Lucille? She’s eight months pregnant and still comes to work in full makeup, handling her tasks efficiently. If you don’t wear them, don’t go. I’ll be embarrassed!"

He even tried to give the high heels to his secretary and take her as his date. Left with no choice, I forced myself to wear them.

However, on the balcony, the secretary tripped me, spilling red wine all over me.

Limping, I found my husband, only for him to sneer, "Tripping on flat ground? How clumsy!"

Furious and pale with anger, I turned to leave.

Someone urged him to chase after me, but he only got angrier. "How bad could it be? She’s so timid—she can’t survive without me! Just wait. When the event’s over, she’ll definitely be waiting in the car to drive me home."

Alas, he was wrong. I turned and went straight to the hospital for an abortion.

The cold wind blew, and the red wine Lucille spilled on my gown seeped into my skin, chilling me to the bone.

Judgmental gazes followed me as I left the event hall, but not a single person stepped forward to help.

Then, a sharp pain twisted through my abdomen, turning my face pale. I couldn’t help but crouch down as warm liquid trickled down my thighs. Reaching out, I pleaded, "Can someone… help me?"

Unfortunately, everyone backed away.

"Don’t get involved. Leo just defended her once, and it pissed Shawn off."

"If you ask me, Imelda really isn’t good enough for Shawn. She’s as fat as a pig—no wonder he doesn’t want her."

"And she’s got a nasty attitude. She spilled wine all over Lucille earlier and didn’t even apologize!"

Not far away, Lucille Russell gasped in surprise, "Shawn, your wife doesn’t look well…"

"This is all my fault," she sniffled pitifully. "I was so focused on discussing work with you that I forgot to keep my distance, and that upset her…"

Full of sympathy, Shawn Sutherland took off his jacket and draped it over Lucille’s shoulders. "Go change before you catch a cold."

Without sparing me a glance, he turned and walked away, scoffing, "She’s just putting on a show. You’re too kind to believe her.

"Don’t worry, where else could she go? You’ve had a few drinks, so once the dinner ends, I’ll have her drive you home. She might not be fit to be my wife, but at the very least, she can still be a maid or a chauffeur."

Clutching the damp fabric of my dress, I trembled in pain. So, in Shawn’s eyes, I was never worthy of being his wife. Was it because I was fat and ugly now?

After getting pregnant, I gained 30 pounds to ensure the baby had enough nutrition. Fearing toxins in makeup, I had even stopped using skincare products, relying only on basic moisturizers.

However, Shawn had forgotten that before our marriage, I was once the woman everyone envied. We met, became close, and fell in love in college. A campus beauty and a campus heartthrob—a perfect match in everyone’s eyes.

He came from a humble background and had a strong sense of pride. So, I left behind my parents’ protection to build a life with him.

We once shared a single bun or a bowl of instant noodles. At our lowest, he even gave me the last sausage when we had nothing left to eat.

During the early years of his business, I endured countless sleepless nights securing deals and investors. More than once, I drank so much at business meetings that I ended up in the hospital with stomach ulcers.

Later, when his company finally stabilized, I stepped away from the front lines to focus on pregnancy because I had always dreamed of having his child.

For five long years, I underwent multiple rounds of IVF to conceive this baby, cherishing it with all my heart, but to Shawn, it meant nothing.

In his heart, I had long since become a worn-out wife—no longer his one true love.

Shaking uncontrollably, I forced myself to stand and hailed a taxi to the hospital.

Upon seeing my condition, the doctor was horrified. "The bleeding is so severe! Why did you wait so long to come? Where’s your husband? We need his signature to save the baby—"

"I don’t want to save it." Collapsed on the freezing operating table, I whispered, "I’m here for an abortion."

The surgery was over. The child I had fought so hard to conceive had once again left me. I sat there, lost in thought.

Pressing a hand against my now-flat stomach, my phone suddenly rang loudly. It was already past midnight. Shawn was calling.

"Where the hell are you? Did you die somewhere? Do you not realize that Lucille and I both drank tonight? She’s barely dressed, and she’s about to give birth soon! If she catches a cold because you didn’t take her home right away, what are you going to do about it?"

I clutched my still-damp gown, the dull ache in my lower abdomen making my speech sluggish.

"I’m at the hospital."

There was a long silence on the other end.

Then, Lucille’s panicked voice came through, "The hospital? Shawn… could your wife have really gone there to get an abortion because of me? I’m so sorry! This is all my fault! I’ll get out of the car now. I never meant to come between you two…"

"What are you so afraid of?" Shawn suddenly let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Don’t I know her? She’s spent five years running in and out of hospitals doing IVF just to get pregnant. Now that she’s finally succeeded, like hell she’d be willing to abort it."

Yeah… The old me would never have given up this child because I once believed it was the product of our love, but now… was there any love left between us? All that remained was a relationship poisoned by resentment.

I let out a cold laugh. "Shawn, are you so sure I wouldn’t go through with it?"

His breathing grew heavy, his patience running out. "Alright, Imelda, stop playing games just to get a rise out of me. Quit being childish. Lucille and I are waiting here. Hurry up and get over here to drive us home."

Just then, a hand gently pulled mine, and a nurse’s voice rang clearly through the call. "I’ve removed your IV. You should be fine, but come back for a check-up in a few days."

Then, she reminded me, "Since you just had an abortion, make sure you don’t catch a cold."

I stopped listening to whatever else Shawn had to say and hung up.

The moment my feet touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up my leg. Only then did I realize my ankle and thigh, which had been injured from my fall, were swollen and bruised. Limping all the way home was agonizing.

When I finally stepped inside, the lights were already on.

The moment I pushed the door open, a pillow flew past me, crashing onto the floor beside my right foot.

I looked up. Shawn’s expression was dark with anger. "Imelda, you’re getting more ridiculous by the day!"

I calmly picked up the pillow, my face emotionless. "Yet you managed to get home just fine without me driving, didn’t you?"

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?!" Shawn took a deep breath, his chest heaving. "A CEO… without a dedicated chauffeur?"

I had no energy to argue. I just wanted to go to my room and rest, but my injured leg gave out, and I stumbled, falling toward Shawn.

He instinctively caught me. "You’re hurt?"

For a brief moment, I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. I hesitated. Should I tell him about the abortion?

Just this once—one last time?

However, as I wavered, the bathroom door swung open.

Lucille walked out, dressed in Shawn’s shirt. She froze when she saw me.

"Imelda… I thought you weren’t coming home tonight."

Her long, pale legs swayed under the white shirt. Her pregnant belly stretched the fabric just enough to reveal glimpses of what was underneath.

I stared at her, rage surging through me. Then, I ripped my hand from Shawn’s grasp and slapped him hard.

"Take it off."

That shirt—I was the one who gave it to Shawn.

Back then, we were still struggling. He had to attend business events, but he didn’t even own a single branded shirt. So I survived on plain bread and instant noodles for a whole month just to buy it for him as a birthday gift.

My eyes burned red. "Shawn, that was my birthday gift to you!"

Lucille looked utterly aggrieved. "I’m so sorry… My belly is just too big. I couldn’t find anything to wear, so I… I’ll leave now. I didn’t mean to intrude."

However, Shawn grabbed her wrist. "It’s late, and you’re pregnant. Why would you leave?"

The concern he had for me was completely gone. All that remained was impatience.

"It’s just an old shirt. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of it? And to think I was worried about you earlier. You don’t even realize you’re in the wrong."

Right… just an old shirt.

To Shawn, I was nothing more than an old shirt now, wasn’t I?

I let out a pained laugh and lunged forward, grabbing the edge of the shirt, and ripping at it with all my strength.

Lucille screamed, her nails digging sharply into the back of my hand.

The pain made my whole body go weak, and I collapsed. Nevertheless, Shawn held Lucille protectively in his arms instead.

"Imelda, what the hell is wrong with you?! It’s just a shirt! Did you really have to push Lucille down like that? If she loses the baby, are you going to take responsibility?!"

Lucille clutched her arm, where there was barely a small scrape. "Shawn, I’m fine… Please, go check on your wife…"

Still, Shawn only looked down at me from above and sneered. "What, are you addicted to putting on this act?

"Did you even get a real doctor for your little show? Talking about some fake miscarriage… If you had that much backbone, you wouldn’t have ended up as a stay-at-home wife, mooching off me!"

I sat on the ground, drenched in cold sweat from the pain, but Shawn didn’t care.

"Apologize to her."

I let out a hollow laugh, emphasizing each word, "And what if I don’t? I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?"

Shawn yanked me up by my arm and threw open the door. The window in the stairwell was open and the freezing wind rushed in, cutting through my thin gown like a blade.

"If you want to throw a tantrum and run away from home," Shawn said mercilessly, "then don’t bother coming back!"

He shoved me out the door and slammed it shut with a loud bang.

…

Curled up in the stairwell, I shivered uncontrollably in the piercing wind. My mind was foggy, barely able to think straight. The pain in my abdomen became unbearable. I raised my hand and pounded on the door in desperation.

"Shawn, let me in! I really did get an abortion! The doctor said I can’t be exposed to the cold—"

I banged on the door for what felt like forever before it finally cracked open just a sliver. Shawn stood there, looking down at me, his face twisted in mockery.

"Imelda, you always act like you’re so high and mighty, huh? Look at you now. Without my protection, you don’t even have anywhere to go."

His eyes were full of contempt.

"You hurt Lucille, and you won’t even say sorry—and now you want to just walk back in? Trying to use the baby to threaten me? It’s just a little cold air. Stop acting like it’s going to kill you. If you apologize, I’ll let you in right now."

Looking at his face, I lost all desire to give in. I gritted my teeth, each word sharp as a blade, as I said, "I did nothing wrong. I won’t apologize."

Shawn’s expression darkened.

"Then, go find somewhere else to stay."

With that, he shut the door in my face again.

But where could I go? I didn’t even have the strength to stand up.

With shaking hands, I reached for my phone, trying to call someone for help, but in my dazed state, I accidentally opened my social media feed instead.

A new post from Lucille popped up.

[Pasta made by the CEO himself—who else gets this kind of treatment? If only he weren’t married… I would love for my son to call him ‘Daddy.’]

In the comments, their colleagues were envious. Some even encouraged her.

[Imelda is nothing compared to you.]

[You’re beautiful and talented. It’d be a waste if you weren’t the next Mrs. Sutherland.]

I stared at the photo—a bowl of spaghetti bolognese—and let out a bitter laugh. Shawn never knew how to cook. The only dish he could ever make was this one.

Back then, he had once told me, "In this lifetime, I’ll only ever make this for you."

However, now, that same bowl of pasta appeared in another woman’s social media post.

My phone battery died, the screen going black. And as the last of my strength drained away, my vision blurred.

I collapsed into unconsciousness.