ManyWriters

In the eighth month of pregnancy, my water broke.
I endured the severe pain and begged my husband Dashiell to take me to the hospital.
He pushed me away: "I'm in a work meeting, I don't have time to watch you act!"
But in his computer video, it was clearly his white moonlight's face.
I was in so much pain that I couldn't speak, and I begged him desperately. During the struggle, the ice sculpture on the table suddenly shattered to the ground.
After a silence, Dashiell grabbed my hair and threw me into the fish pond full of ice.
"Didn't you say you were going to give birth? Give birth here!"
"If the ice sculpture is broken, you and the child will pay together!"
I lost consciousness in the freezing cold water, and the blood dyed the pond crimson. When I was covered with frost and was about to become an ice sculpture, Dashiell finally fished me out with a fishing net.
He kicked me in the face: "When we got married, I told you that I don't like jealous women!"
Later I learned that the broken ice sculpture was a gift from his white moonlight.
I and the baby in my belly were his frozen toys to vent his anger.

My Husband Froze Me and Our Child into Works of Art

As I thought about this, I let out a bitter laugh:


"My mom misses you. Come back to the family house with me tomorrow to see my parents. Be on your best behavior, don't make them worry."


My words cut off, I fought back tears and nodded:


It was time to say a proper goodbye. After all, Dashiell's parents had taken care of me fairly well. They were practically family.


As usual, Dashiell didn't return to our bedroom, locking himself in his study instead. In this huge house with just the two of us, he wasn't locking himself in—he was locking me out.


The next day, Dashiell and I inadvertently left at different times, meeting up in front of his family's house.


"Olyvia, why haven't you been coming to see Mom lately? How's the baby doing?"


Dashiell's mom approached with a smile, which vanished the moment she saw my stomach.


"Mom, the baby will come back eventually. Let's start eating! I'm starving!"


In the past, I would have felt dejected and upset, even lying awake at night worrying about it. But now, my battered heart couldn't feel an ounce of pain anymore.


Just as we sat down, the front door suddenly burst open.All eyes converged on the doorway as Iris gracefully approached us, holding up her white dress.


This was my first time seeing her up close, and she truly was ethereally beautiful and pure. Before I could even process it, Dashiell strode over to meet her.


I'm not sure how to describe Dashiell's demeanor, but it reminded me of my own fervent enthusiasm when I used to go to his fan meetings. His entire being radiated love.


"Dashiell mentions you often. Now that I see you, I understand why. You're lovely."


I felt two gazes upon my face - one of Iris's kindness, and another of Dashiell's displeasure.


Sure enough, the next moment, Dashiell grabbed my wrist, gritting his teeth:


"How long do you intend to keep this up?"


I looked up, confused, but chose to remain silent under Dashiell's intense stare.


He didn't want me to be in Iris's presence. Her compliment was like a silver needle dipped in poison to his heart.


I lowered my head. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well. I should go."


Just as I turned to leave, a sharp pain suddenly struck the back of my head.I stumbled and fell to the ground, pulling the tablecloth with me. The carefully arranged wine and steak on the table crashed down onto my body.


Struggling to turn around, I could only see Dashiell's cold, piercing gaze.


A twisted form of favoritism reserved for Iris.


Wine stained my entire body, shards of glass embedding themselves in my legs. My in-laws, who once treated me like a daughter, now looked on indifferently - all because I had lost their most anticipated grandchild. Dashiell stood in front of Iris, looking down at me as if he could see right through me.


But I didn't cry or make a scene. I just quietly got up from the floor.


"As long as you know you were wrong, stay for lunch with us," Dashiell suddenly grabbed my hand as I turned to leave. His voice carried a hint of condescension, as if rewarding me for my compliance and understanding.


I slowly turned around, and the man behind me felt an inexplicable tremor in his heart. It was as if something had slipped from his control; he always felt there was something strange about the woman before him.


"No need, goodbye," I said, pulling my hand away and smiling as I looked around at everyone in the room.


Then, I turned, opened the door, and left.


Dashiell, from this day forward, I will no longer love you.


Chapter 4