Edward didn't hesitate. He threw himself between me and that massive dog, fighting it off with nothing but his bare hands.
In the end, the beast sank its teeth into the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger, tearing away a chunk.
Blood everywhere. Seventeen stitches.
I'd cried until my eyes were raw, but Edward just smiled through the pain and pulled me close.
"Don't cry. As long as you and the baby are safe, this scar is nothing. I'd lose the whole hand if it meant protecting you two."
That scar—once a symbol of his devotion—now felt like a blade twisting in my chest.
Without thinking, I reached for his hand, my fingers tracing the raised ridge of tissue.
"Does it still hurt?"
Edward blinked, instinctively curling his fingers away. "That healed ages ago. Why bring it up now?"
I lowered my gaze. "Just... remembering how things used to be."
"How good you were to me. To our baby."
His expression softened into that familiar tenderness. He caught my hand and held it tight.
"Silly girl. When have I ever stopped being good to you?"
"The moment you got pregnant, I swore to myself—I'd die before I let anything happen to you or our child."
His eyes glistened, his voice thick with emotion.
"That's exactly why I can't let you go through with this pregnancy. Don't you see? I can't stand by and watch you carry a baby for nine months only to... to hold it in your arms while it dies. That would destroy you. It would destroy me."
Such a thoughtful reason.
Such heartfelt words.
Too bad every single one was a lie.
I held his gaze, needing to push just once more.
"But this baby—we waited five years for this. You went through all those injections, all that medication. You nearly lost your hand protecting us." My voice cracked. "Can you really just... give up?"
Something flickered in his eyes. "Of course I can't. No one wants this baby more than I do."
But then his jaw set, his tone hardening with false conviction.
"But Celine, I'm your husband. I'm this child's father. It's my job to protect you both. If we bring this baby into the world, it will only mean endless suffering for you. Trust me on this. Let it go."
"We'll have other children. I promise."
Whether his grief was real or simply award-worthy acting, I couldn't tell anymore.
By the end, Edward was crying.
Hot tears splashed onto the back of my hand. I flinched.
I didn't understand.
He loved me—I'd seen it, felt it, lived it.
He loved this baby.
So why the affair? Why was he so desperate to end this pregnancy?
I opened my mouth to speak, but his phone buzzed.
The moment he saw the caller ID, panic flashed across his face.
He shot me a guilty look, already backing away. "It's the hospital—probably an emergency."
"Think about what I said, okay? I'll be right back."
He retreated to the far end of the corridor, deliberately turning his back to me before answering.
But there was a window in front of him.
And in that glass, clear as day, I watched his reflection transform.
The worry melted away. In its place: warmth. Tenderness. Adoration.
I knew that expression.
I'd seen it when he flew a thousand miles just to surprise me for one weekend.
When he stayed awake for three days straight, holding my hand through a fever.
When he knelt before me at our wedding, voice breaking as he promised me forever.
He used to look at me that way.
Now he was giving it to her.
The girl on the other end of that call.
A strange numbness settled over me.
Edward had a reputation in our circle—the devoted husband, the man who only had eyes for his wife.
Young, successful, handsome. Women threw themselves at him constantly. Even the hospital director's daughter had made her interest painfully obvious.
