Chapter 3

That Christmas night, I seriously considered leaving Ethan for the first time.

Once, I loved him. That love made me willing to endure many things. But everyone has a limit.

He asked me to stay—using the child, using reality, using every argument that sounded irrefutable.

I was afraid of losing, afraid of the unknown. In the end, I swallowed all my words and chose to remain.

But every silence, every step back, has now turned into scalding shame, burning through my chest.

Until Lucas’s cries yanked me back.

“Bad mom!” He looked at me like I was a detestable stranger. “If you make Lyra unhappy, I don’t want you as my mom anymore!”

I had thought that after learning Lucas was Lyra’s child, I could calmly accept the fact that he didn’t like me.

The pain in my chest told me I was wrong.

I tried to smile at him, but my lips were so stiff I could barely move them.

“How would I make her unhappy?” My voice was so soft I could hardly hear it myself, dry and empty. “I’ll leave. You three… can live well together.”

Children’s words are the most direct—and the most hurtful—because they have no idea how heavy those words are.

Lucas’s eyes lit up at once. “Really? Then will Lyra move in with us? Will she play with me every day?”

Lyra moved immediately.

She crouched down, pulled Lucas into her arms, then looked up at me.

“Lucas, don’t say things like that. This is your home—your home with your mom and dad.” She turned to me. “Rosalie, don’t take a child’s words to heart. I’m not here to destroy your family.”

I didn’t respond.

Then she reached out, trying to touch my hand.

“If my being here really makes you this uncomfortable,” her voice dropped, trembling just the right amount, “I… I’ll leave right away.”

Before the last word even fell, Ethan had already stepped forward, placing himself between us.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said softly. His arm wrapped naturally around Lyra’s shoulders, drawing her closer. “I invited her to stay for a few days. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”

Lyra leaned into his side, lifting her face, tears trembling in her eyes, ready to fall but not quite. “No, it’s my fault. I always… cause trouble for you.”

The timing was impeccable.

Lucas’s crying rose again, sharp and frantic. “No! Lyra can’t leave! Bad mom!”

Three people: one in a protective stance, one leaning in dependence, one crying in protest.

Warm light bathed them, and they truly looked like a harmonious family.

And I stood at the edge of that light, like an unnecessary spectator.

“When the show’s over, that’s enough,” I said. “I’m leaving.”

“Do you have to be this vicious about everything?” The warmth on Ethan’s face froze instantly. He frowned at me. “Can’t you see how bad Lyra looks? She’s seriously ill—a terrible cold.” He paused, as if this were the most irrefutable reason of all. “I felt sorry for her being alone, so I brought her here. We’re just taking care of someone who’s sick. Rosalie, can you stop being unreasonable?”

A slow, bitter laugh escaped me.

“Ethan,” I met his eyes, “if you truly can’t hear, you should have your ears checked. From the moment she walked in until now, how many words have I actually said?”

I turned away, letting my gaze rest on the three of them one last time. “Don’t forget to sign the mate contract termination agreement.”

When Ethan and I had first become mates, this house had known laughter. Somewhere along the way, the air slowly went sour.

Until one evening, Ethan mentioned casually that Lyra was in a bad mood and wanted to stay over for a few days to clear her head.

I remembered reacting like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, almost jumping up to protest.

Because by then, Lyra’s shadow was already everywhere. And now, she wanted to step into the last place that truly belonged to me.

Ethan didn’t insist in the end—but he punished me with weeks of silence and cold indifference.

That cold war only ended when we adopted Lucas.

He should have understood.

This wasn’t a quarrel.

This was the end.

He chased after me for two steps, opening his mouth to speak.

But Lucas’s tearful cry snapped around him like a rope, yanking him back.

“Dad! Lyra’s forehead is so hot!” Lucas pressed his little hand to Lyra’s forehead, panic in his voice. “Does she have a fever? Is she going to die?”

Ethan didn’t hesitate for a second.

He didn’t even look back at me.

He spun around and scooped Lyra into his arms.

“Don’t be afraid. Daddy’s taking Auntie to the hospital right now!” His voice was filled with an urgency I hadn’t heard in a long time.

They rushed into the rain, into the car. The engine roared, and the headlights vanished around the corner of the street.

I walked alone into the downpour.

The rain was icy, pouring down mercilessly, soaking me through in seconds. My clothes clung to my body.

My hair stuck to my cheeks and neck. With every step, my shoes made wet, sucking sounds against the pavement.

Cars passed by, headlights sweeping over my face before disappearing again. No one stopped.

Then that familiar car drove past in the opposite lane.

Ethan’s car.

Through the rain-streaked window, I saw it clearly.

In the back seat, Lucas leaned forward as far as he could, his small hand pressed to Lyra’s forehead in the passenger seat. Lyra leaned back with her eyes closed, hair disheveled, looking terribly weak.

And just as the car was about to pass completely—

I was certain I saw it.

Her eyes were closed, but the corners of her lips curved upward, ever so slightly.

So quick it was almost imperceptible. Like an illusion.

But she did smile.

She won again.

At least, she thought she had.

What she didn’t know was that I no longer cared.

If my husband chose to turn his back forever,

If my son had already placed someone else ahead of me in his heart—

Then let them be together.

Isn’t that what they had wanted all along?