"Bianca is a good girl—she's suitable for marriage. As for you, you've been with me for so many years. Of course I won't abandon you. From now on, you can be my mistress. After all, our bodies are the most compatible."
He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like he was granting me a favor.
"There are certain things I just can’t bear to do to a girl like Bianca."
I couldn’t listen any longer. I pushed him away and stumbled toward the bathroom.
"Lana, don’t tell me… you're pregnant?"
My heart skipped a beat. I instinctively placed a hand over my lower abdomen.
"My stomach just feels a bit off," I replied. "Don’t worry. I would never have your child."
"That’s for the best."
His voice carried a sense of relief. "Don’t even think about using a child to tie me down. Even if you were pregnant, I wouldn’t want the baby."
That sentence shattered the last sliver of hope in my heart.
Whether the child existed or not—it was never wanted. Just like me—never loved.
I let out a bitter smile and shook my head.
Suddenly, I couldn’t stand staying there a moment longer. I pushed Gavin away and walked out the door alone.
For him, I had endured the shame, indulged his desires and lost myself. And now that he’d found a new "good girl," he wanted to keep me as a mistress.
I couldn’t hold it in anymore—I crouched down under the streetlamp and burst into tears.
Eight years of youth.
Eight years of love.
Eight years of devotion.
And to him, it was all worthless.
Suddenly, a sharp, twisting pain surged through my abdomen, so intense that cold sweat broke out all over me.
Clutching my stomach, my vision began to blur and darken—until I could no longer stay conscious.
"Miss Ward, you’re awake."
When I opened my eyes, a nurse stood by my bed, looking at me with pity. "You’ve lost the baby."
The baby.
My hand instinctively moved to my abdomen. It was as flat as ever, as if nothing had ever happened.
The child was gone. Maybe that was for the best.
At least it wouldn’t have to come into this world and feel the pain of being unwanted by its own father.
At least it wouldn’t have to end up like me—loving in such humiliation, loving with such pain.
The nurse helped me complete the discharge procedures and I walked out of the hospital alone.
There were over a dozen missed calls—all from Gavin and a string of messages.
[Where did you run off to?]
[When are you coming to pack your things?]
[Hurry up and pack, then get out.]
[Bianca’s moving in today.]
I had just lost our child—and he was rushing me to make way for his new lover.
[Then just do me a favor and throw my stuff away. I don’t want it anymore.]
My fingers paused over the screen and I added one more line:
[Including you—I don’t want you anymore either.]
The phone rang quickly—it was a call from Gavin.
In the past, I used to get excited every time he called.
Now, I only felt annoyed.
Without hesitation, I added him to the blacklist.
Eight years of entanglement—it was time to end it.
I dialed my mother’s number.
"Hello, Lana?"
There was surprise in my mother’s voice.
"What made you think of calling Mom?"
"Mom, I want to come home. The flight is tomorrow."
My mother paused for a moment, then asked cautiously, "What about your boyfriend?"
“I don’t want him anymore.”
My mother seemed like she wanted to ask something, but in the end, she just sighed.
“It’s good that you’re coming home. Mom will make you something delicious.”
After hanging up, I dialed my best friend’s number.
