Protecting my belly, I slowly walked out of the hospital.
It had begun to rain. The wind carried a damp chill that rushed toward me. Mist wrapped the street, and the lights were stretched into blurred shadows by the rain.
Through the curtain of rain, I saw Daniel take off his coat and drape it over her shoulders. He shielded her from the rain and helped her into the passenger seat. The movements were smooth and natural, as if he had done them countless times before.
She suddenly looked up, smiling as she grabbed his tie and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his lips.
Daniel lowered his head and kissed her back. Rain slid down from the ends of his hair.
When they parted, he gently tapped her nose.
She laughed and tugged his tie again, biting lightly at his lower lip.
He did not get angry. Instead, his smile grew wider.
Before the car door closed, she rolled down the window. Her gaze passed through the rain and met mine for a brief moment.
It was a look of victory, completely undisguised.
“Olivia,” she said. Her voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly. “You lost.”
I looked at her and suddenly smiled.
Not out of sarcasm. Not out of stubborn pride.
I simply felt that everything had finally become simple.
“It does not matter,” I said to myself in silence.
“He is nothing more than a man.”
The car started, turned, and disappeared into the rainy night.
I stood beneath the hospital canopy and raised my hand slightly, as if waving goodbye to someone who no longer mattered.
“Daniel,” I whispered, “you no longer belong to me.”
“You are her choice.”
At that moment, I took out my phone and sent everything I had organized over the past few days to my mentor. The bank statements, chat records, videos, and photos were all included.
He was a highly respected divorce lawyer in the field.
I did not hesitate.
No matter how difficult the road ahead would be, I had to reclaim the initiative for my child.
Rain soon soaked the hem of my dress, yet I barely felt it.
My phone lit up again.
It was my mother.
“Olivia, I made you some soup and had it delivered home,” she said, her voice as warm as ever. “Where did you and Danny go? Why are you not back yet?”
Before I could answer, she continued, “You are so far along now, you need to be careful. How could Danny take you out so late?”
In that instant, all the emotions I had been suppressing felt as if a lid had been suddenly ripped open.
My throat tightened. My chest ached.
“Mom, do not worry,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steady. “We just went out to eat something simple.”
“It is raining outside,” I took a breath. “Take your time on the way home. Message me when you arrive, alright?”
I hung up before she could say anything else.
The moment I put the phone down, my tears finally broke free.
I made no sound. I simply stood under the canopy and let the tears run down my face.
The baby inside me moved gently. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my belly.
People passed by me without stopping.
Yet in that moment, I knew with absolute clarity that I was no longer someone who merely endured.
This rain was only the beginning.
That night, Daniel did not come home.
When my phone lit up on the bedside table, I was sitting alone in the dim room, the rain tapping against the window. I glanced down. It was a message from him.
“Olivia, I have to work overtime tonight, so I am sleeping at the office. The weather is getting cold and it is raining. Remember to close the window before bed.
I will always love you.
Your husband.”
I read it without any reaction.
In the past, messages like this would have made me anxious, worried, even driven me to check again and again whether he was safe.
Now, I simply turned the phone face down and did not reply.
It turned out that once a person truly wakes up, even anger disappears.
