Chapter 3

On a bright, sunlit day, I departed from my residence, heading towards Claire's shop.

The entrance to her store was flanked by two pristine lines of lavish floral arrangements, each embellished with vibrant, shimmering ribbons that caught the sun's rays. This was Ethan Williams' elaborate display for her—an unmistakable gesture.

Ethan stood next to Claire, cradling a young girl. Their lighthearted laughter made them appear like a family to the casual observer.

As I approached, Claire noticed me, and a momentary look of discomfort crossed her features. She then gently took the child from Ethan's embrace, saying softly, "Darling, don't hold onto Ethan so tightly. Come to Mommy now."

She glanced my way, her tone warm and purposeful. "This is Mrs. Williams. Greet her, please."

"Mrs. Williams!"

The child's voice rang out, clear and delightful, reminiscent of biting into a fresh, crisp apple.

I responded with a smile and nod, but before I could speak, Claire added nonchalantly, as if by chance, "You've been wed for quite some time now. Still no thoughts of starting a family?"

Her words struck like a knife, sharp and painful. My face lost its color as I recalled my loss, while guilt briefly flashed across Ethan's darkening expression.

It occurred early in our marriage.

I had just discovered my pregnancy. However, when I informed Ethan, he showed no joy or excitement. Instead, he frowned, his voice cold and distant as he stated: "A baby will only make things more difficult between us. Our relationship is already rocky. I think it's best if we don't have this child."

He said this shortly after Claire had shared an emotional breakup post on social media. His cherished first love was single again, and Ethan wanted to keep his options open.

In his eyes, our unborn child was an impediment. Something to be disposed of without hesitation.

The physician cautioned that terminating the pregnancy could cause permanent harm. They explained that my body was too fragile, and if I proceeded, I might never be able to conceive again.

But Ethan was indifferent. "You're still young," he said dismissively. "You appear perfectly healthy to me. If something goes awry, I'll pay for the finest doctors to remedy it."

He made the decision as casually as if he were selecting a dinner venue.

But while a bad meal can be replaced, a damaged body cannot.

That day, lying on the hospital bed under harsh fluorescent lighting, I felt my first twinge of remorse for marrying Ethan Williams. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stared vacantly at the ceiling, crushed by the weight of his words.

Later, Ethan entered the room carrying an enormous bouquet of lilies, their overpowering fragrance filling the air. He wiped away my tears and spoke softly, his tone almost affectionate: "Zoe, don't be upset. We can always have another child."

A harsh blow, followed by a sugar-coated deception. It was his preferred tactic.

Through tear-filled eyes, I gazed at him. For a fleeting moment, his face seemed to belong to someone else—someone who would have known I despised lilies and adored baby's breath instead.

But I held back the words I longed to say. I didn't request a divorce.

Claire eventually married, and the Williams family began pressuring Ethan to have a child. Suddenly, he wanted one too.

But the doctor's warning proved accurate. I never conceived again.

Ethan, ever the master of facades, brushed it off when questioned. "Zoe's health isn't the best," he'd say with a sympathetic smile. "We're just not considering children at the moment."

It was a convenient excuse, one that portrayed him as a caring spouse while subtly placing the blame on me.

What he never mentioned, of course, was the true reason—the child he'd compelled me to lose, all to keep his options open for Claire. A truth that would tarnish the flawless image of Ethan Williams, the golden child of the Williams family.

But to me, he was nothing more than a coward. Selfish, weak, and heartless.

Claire, however, wasn't about to let the subject drop.

"I had no idea Zoe's health was so poor," she said, feigning concern. "I suppose I shouldn't complain. I thought my body was weak too, but I had no issues carrying my daughter. From conception to birth, everything went incredibly smoothly."

Her words were laced with false sympathy, but the implication was evident: There must be something wrong with you.

I refused to take the bait. I hadn't come here to engage in petty exchanges with her.

Instead, I turned and walked towards the floral arrangement I had sent, intending to reclaim it.

But as I reached for it, an intense, burning pain erupted in my stomach. It felt as if countless knives were twisting inside me. My body shook as I clutched my abdomen, struggling to remain standing.

Before I could react, Ethan was beside me, grasping my free hand.