Adam kept whispering in my ear, persistently urging me, though half-heartedly, to go to the hospital and get an IUD.
Later, he became a renowned surgical director in the medical field, while I, forced to quit the research team because of my pregnancy, watched everything slip away.
I still remember that night—he reeked of alcohol, drunkenly resting his head on my chest, saying he wanted a child with me.
In the end, he took me to the hospital to have the IUD removed, which had become fused with my uterine wall, a painful and bloody ordeal.
He cried like a child, swearing he would treat me better from that moment on.
What he didn’t realize was that from the very beginning, my child was always meant to be a pawn to prolong the life of his beloved subordinate, Chesley.
Adam came back in the early hours.
There was a noticeable hickey on his neck and his body still carried the scent of Chesley.
It made me want to throw up.
Breathing heavily, he approached me and tried to kiss me, but I turned my head to avoid him.
"I'm pregnant," I said.
Adam dismissed it with a shrug. "You’re already eight months pregnant. If I’m gentle, it’ll be fine."
He tried to move closer again, but just then, Chesley’s ringtone blared.
Adam hurriedly ran to the balcony to answer the call.
The wind was howling loudly.
Yet, phrases like "I miss you" and "I love you" still slipped into my ears, one after another.
After hanging up the phone, Adam lit a cigarette and took slow drags, casually saying, "A colleague sent over some documents that need my signature. I’m going downstairs for a bit."
The thick smoke hit me and I couldn’t fight the urge to gag.
Adam’s brow tightened further and he finally snapped, "Can you stop being so dramatic? It’s just the smell of smoke. Is it really that hard to handle?"
"What's with the act?"
When I barely managed to say, "Secondhand smoke can harm the fetus," Adam quickly stubbed out the cigarette.
His expression faltered, uneasy.
"I’m going downstairs to take care of some work. You should get some rest," he said.
I let out a self-deprecating laugh. The difference between being loved and not being loved had never been more obvious.
I stood on the balcony, watching the car below sway all night. It wasn’t until the streetlights went out that Adam finally returned, carrying a flushed Chesley inside.
When I saw Chesley at the dining table the next morning, with the dark circles under my eyes from exhaustion, my heart no longer stirred.
I just ate slowly from my bowl.
Adam, ever thoughtful, poured me a glass of warm milk. "Mia, drink more. The baby needs to grow strong."
I responded lightly and didn’t say anything more.
Chesley, clearly jealous, spoke up. "Adam, I'm still growing, too. I’d like some warm milk as well."
Adam affectionately tapped her nose, smiling indulgently. "Of course, my little glutton."
After a moment, he quickly added an explanation.
"Chesley’s been interning with me recently," he said, "and I’m supposed to professor her thoroughly, so I brought her here for dinner. We’ll head to the hospital together later."
He then grinned and added, "Actually, since it’s New Year’s Eve, why not let her stay and have dinner with us? The more, the merrier, right?"
Chesley, smiling sweetly, linked her arm through Adam’s, her eyes full of playful challenge.
"Well then, thanks, 'madam.'"
"But Mia probably won’t mind if I come over every day for meals from now on, right?"
I simply muttered an "mm" and, with a casual "I’m full," retreated to my room.
It wasn't long before Adam stormed in after me. As soon as he stepped into the room, he pointed a finger at my face and erupted in anger.
“Mia, what are you throwing a tantrum for again? Chesley is a guest. You have the nerve to give her the cold shoulder?”
“I’m warning you, apologize to her right now, or this won’t be over between us!”
I pointed to the file folder on the table, which contained my cancer diagnosis. “Maybe you should take a look at what’s inside before you say anything to me?”
