Chapter 3

Ethan drove at breakneck speed the whole way.

When he rushed to the hospital room, Emily's face was pale, leaning weakly against the pillow, but her eyes stayed glued to Ethan.

"Ethan, you really didn't have to cancel work just for me... If Sophia finds out, she'll definitely make a scene again." Emily's voice was soft, with a hint of timid probing.

Ethan picked up an apple, his tone several degrees colder: "Why bring her up? That woman—what can she do besides throw tantrums?"

"But..." Emily bit her lower lip, seemingly casually adding, "I mean, you two only ended up together because of that drunken night… Even though everyone says she set you up, took advantage of you when you were out of it and got into your bed, I just don't think Sophia is the type to do anything like that… Even though, well, everyone's saying she gets around and has a thing with a bunch of guys..."

Hearing this, my drifting soul seemed to feel another piercing chill.

This was the truth in my husband's eyes.

That night, when Ethan got drunk, I was clearly the one who took care of him all night, but Emily deliberately twisted it, making him believe I had drugged his drink to force him into compliance. And after our marriage, she constantly fed Ethan rumors about my "messy private life."

These two points became thorns in Ethan's heart, the root of his always despising and humiliating me.

"Emily, you're just too innocent, too easily to trick" Ethan handed her the cut apple, his eyes carrying the gentleness I had once longed for, "Someone like Sophia, who's always lying, isn't worth defending. If she didn't have something to hide, she wouldn't keep pulling these vanishing stunts."

Emily took the apple, a barely noticeable smile of satisfaction crossing her lips, then covered her chest and frowned: "Ethan, I'm still a bit scared... That unidentified body was so terrifying. How could something so cruel happen?"

"Don't be afraid." Ethan comforted her, his voice steady, "The body's already been taken back to the autopsy room. I'll have my assistant handle it quickly and give the deceased some closure."

Just then, Ethan's phone on the bedside table vibrated.

The screen showed "Franklin" calling.

Ethan frowned, seemingly annoyed at being disturbed at this moment, but he still answered, his voice returning to its cold work tone: "Speak."

On the other end, assistant Franklin's voice sounded somewhat urgent, "Mr. Jones, the autopsy results for the unidentified body from the overpass are in."

"Any special findings? Just file the report."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Franklin's voice became unusually heavy, coming through the receiver clearly:

"Mr. Jones, the situation is quite tragic."

"Although the deceased had impact injuries to her abdomen, there was significant thickening of the uterine wall. We extracted residual embryonic tissue from inside."

"It's two deaths."

Ethan's hand peeling the apple stopped abruptly, his brow furrowed: "She was pregnant?"

"Yes, about six weeks along."

Ethan fell silent for a long time, the coldness fading from his face. He let out a long sigh, his voice low: "Only six weeks... That's two lives. How tragic."

After hanging up, he seemed somewhat unsettled, staring out the window and murmuring: "Whether it was an accident or something else, this is too unfair to that unborn child."

I watched the compassion showing in his eyes, my soul trembling violently.

The floodgates of memory burst open, pulling me back to that night before death came.

That evening, I had just gotten my test results from the hospital.

It clearly read: [Intrauterine early pregnancy, approximately 6 weeks].

In that moment, standing in the hospital's empty corridor, holding that flimsy piece of paper, I felt the whole world light up. I was filled with joy, thinking this might be heaven's last chance for me, the only turning point in our cold marriage.

I thought, even if you hated me, for the child's sake, would you smile at me?

I couldn't wait to see you, to tell you this good news in person.

So I got in the car, my mind full of what your expression would be when you learned you were going to be a father. Would it be surprise? Shock? Or maybe a little bit of joy?

I was too eager, too happy.

Even in the second before the impact, my hand instinctively moved to protect my belly.

Ethan, if one day you knew that the body cut open by the cold blade on your autopsy table was me, that the not-yet-formed clump of flesh was your child...

Would you, even for just one second, regret the words you just said?