Without realizing it, Shen Xinghui placed his hand on his stomach, where their child had taken root.
Ignatius watched him with overwhelming happiness.
The next morning, he woke up to an unfamiliar feeling.
The warmth of Shen Xinghui's body was still there in his arms, but something was different.
Looking over, he saw Shen Xinghui sitting on the bed, his face pale, his hand pressed to his mouth.
"Ugh..."
"Shen Xinghui?"
Even with his groggy mind, Ignatius could tell that something was wrong.
Before he could even rise, Shen Xinghui groaned again and hurriedly got out of bed, rushing straight to the bathroom.
Ignatius, not understanding what was happening, followed after him.
Inside the bathroom, Shen Xinghui was suffering, vomiting.
Ignatius quickly rushed over and rubbed his back, but despite his efforts, Shen Xinghui's pain didn't subside.