In the gynecology exam room, I stepped down from the operating table, my face pale.
The doctor wrote out a prescription while scolding me right in front of everyone.
“Next time, use protection.”
“Only twenty-one and already getting an abortion—did you think about today when you were enjoying yourself?”
With every word, the people in the room looked me up and down.
My hands tightened at my sides, and I grabbed the medicine before fleeing in embarrassment.
On my way out, I bumped into a male doctor.
He glanced at the scattered report on the floor, then looked me over from head to toe.
I couldn’t take it—I snatched up the report and ran.
The moment I stepped out of the hospital, the first thing I saw was Adrian Scott.
Next to a black sedan, Adrian was opening the door for a woman in a wheelchair.
She tilted her head up and kissed him on the lips.
Adrian leaned down, ruffling her hair with gentle affection.
...
I knew that woman.
Bella Scott, the so-called princess of New York City, Adrian’s full-blooded younger sister, the one he’d spoiled all her life.
But just now, they had kissed on the mouth.
A wave of nausea rose in my throat.
I didn’t dare think too deeply about how much Adrian had kept from me.
When I turned, Adrian caught sight of me.
His expression flickered before he said something to the person in the car and walked toward me.
“Layla, was this the hospital you booked for your prenatal check-up? How did it go?”
I stared at him coldly without answering.
Looking at this man I thought I knew, I realized I had never truly known him at all.
He was the one who had pulled me back from the edge of death.
And the one who had destroyed me two years ago.
“Layla, let me explain—my relationship with her isn’t what you think.”
Adrian was quick—he instantly realized I’d seen them kiss.
If it were before, I might have listened.
But now, I wouldn’t believe a word.
“Adrian, we’re done.”
I found myself picking at my hand again, reopening wounds that had barely healed.
Adrian noticed.
He cupped my hands in his, stopping me from hurting myself.
“Don’t be afraid, Layla. I’m here. Relax, breathe.”
I froze.
Ever since I dropped out of school, I’d developed the habit of skin-picking whenever I was under stress.
At its worst, there wasn’t a single unbroken patch on my hands—sometimes I’d even break skin on my arms.
Back then, Adrian would always do this—hold my hands and tell me, over and over, that he was there.
Now, trembling all over, I used every ounce of strength to shove him away.
“Get away from me! Don’t touch me!!”
“Adrian! How long are you going to keep pretending?!”
Maybe my outburst was too much—pain from the recent abortion flared violently in my abdomen.
I tried to stand; I didn’t want to seem weak before him.
But the pain was too sharp, making me want to vomit.
I couldn’t take it—I crouched down, clutching my stomach.
For once, Adrian’s composure cracked, replaced by panic.
He scooped me up and rushed toward the hospital.
But in the next moment, Bella tumbled out of the car, gasping for air.
“Adrian, I can’t breathe… take me home, I don’t want to stay here.”
Hesitation flashed in his eyes, and a few seconds later, he set me down at the hospital entrance.
“Bella’s having an asthma attack. I’ll take her home first.”
“Layla, I’ll explain this later.”
Without another word, he ran back to her.
As he lifted her into his arms, Bella looped both arms around her brother’s neck.
