Chapter 4

The pungent smell of disinfectant flooded my nose. I slowly opened my heavy eyelids and found myself lying in a hospital bed.

The incandescent lights on the wall were somewhat glaring. I instinctively moved my hand to protect my abdomen, feeling a dull ache there, though it was much milder than the tearing agony I felt right before I passed out.

A faint rustling of clothing came from beside the bed.

Kevin was sitting in the visitor's chair. Seeing me wake up, he immediately sat up straight and leaned closer to my bed.

His face was written with anxiety. He grabbed my hand resting outside the blanket, his voice filled with deep concern and apology, "Emma, you're finally awake. Thank God. The doctor said both you and the baby are fine."

He held my hand tightly, looking at my expressionless face. Perhaps thinking I was still angry about the dispute at home, he deliberately softened his tone and continued to apologize. "I'm sorry, I was too impulsive today. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I apologize for that. But you were too impulsive as well. How could you push Sarah? I understand that your pregnancy hormones make you emotional, but you can't expect everyone to just accommodate you just because you're pregnant..."

I pulled my hand away.

Kevin froze for a second, then continued, "About that toy car... honestly, it's better that it's gone. Keeping that thing around only makes you think of Liam and makes you sadder. I dealt with it because I didn't want you to be consumed by past grief and affect your health. I was just doing it for your own good."

Listening to his seemingly affectionate and reasonable explanation, my heart was like a pool of dead water—terrifyingly clear and numb.

I knew that his current display of nervousness had absolutely nothing to do with him caring about me. His apology-laden words were all just a performance.

In that exact moment when Kevin saw me lose consciousness, his concern definitely wasn't for my personal safety. He was purely terrified that the fall might cause me to miscarry.

Because if I lost this baby, Sarah's child would lose his crucial matching donor.

I looked at him wearily. "Let's get a divorce, Kevin."

The air in the room seemed to stall at that moment.

The apologetic look on Kevin's face stiffened completely, instantly replaced by anger.

He stood up abruptly, staring at me as if I had done something absurdly unreasonable.

"Are you crazy? You're bringing up divorce over a piece of junk toy in the storage room?"

He felt I was causing trouble out of nowhere. "I've already swallowed my pride and apologized to you. How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?"

"It's not just about the toy," I stared right back at him, my voice devoid of any inflection. I didn't want to offer any further explanations.

Seeing how resolute yet calm I was, Kevin shook his head in disappointment.

He picked up his suit jacket from the back of the chair, draped it over his arm, and spoke to me condescendingly. "You're clearly not in your right mind right now, acting purely out of emotion. You stay here by yourself and cool off. We'll talk when you sober up!"

After dropping that sentence, he turned and hurried out of the ward. With a muffled bang, he slammed the door behind him and left.

Night gradually fell, and the corridor outside the ward became extremely quiet.

Later that evening, taking advantage of the empty hallway, I pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand. Blood trickled down through my fingers, but I didn't care. I threw on my coat, bypassed the nurse's station, and left the hospital.

After walking out the hospital gates, I hailed a cab back to that house.

The house was pitch black.

I picked up the suitcase I had already packed in the bedroom earlier that day.

Before leaving, I took out a printed and signed divorce agreement, laying it perfectly flat dead center on the living room coffee table.

Having done all this, I grabbed my luggage and walked out without looking back.

That very same night, in a private restaurant on the other side of the city, Kevin was celebrating Sarah's birthday.

Their window seat offered a stunning view, and the waiter had just served a freshly opened bottle of champagne.

Kevin raised his glass, chatting with Sarah about trivial daily matters.

He had been mentally and physically exhausted recently. It was only sitting here accompanied by Sarah that he felt his life was still perfectly under his control.

In his mind, Emma had always been deeply dependent on him. This time, she was surely just sulking alone in the hospital. As long as he gave her the cold shoulder for a few days, she would naturally soften up and give in.

After dinner, Kevin drove Sarah back to his house since it was on the way.

Kevin took out his keys, turned the lock, familiarly pushed open the door, and casually flicked on the hallway and living room lights.

Kevin's gaze swept across the spacious living room, his sharp senses immediately registering that something was wrong. He quickly walked over to the coffee table, his eyes locking onto the surface.

Resting quietly there were a few sheets of white paper.

He snatched up the papers. Two seconds later, he clearly saw the words blaring at the top: Divorce Agreement, followed by Emma's distinct signature at the bottom.

The surrounding air instantly plunged to the freezing point.