This time, I didn’t just stay out until late—I partied until the early hours of the morning and drank to my heart’s content.
When I stumbled drunkenly through the door, Simon’s face was as dark as a storm cloud.
"Valerie, do you even remember that you’re married? Coming back this late, reeking of alcohol—are you trying to push your limits?"
He confronted me angrily, but I barely paid him any attention. Instead, I dashed to the bathroom and collapsed over the toilet, vomiting until my head spun.
Disgusted, Simon stormed off and left me to fend for myself.
I have no memory of how I managed to shower and stagger into bed afterward.
The next morning, when I woke up, Simon was already gone.
Perhaps I’d drunk too much the night before. Even after waking, I found myself retching a few more times before I finally felt better.
Before heading out, I glanced at the calendar on the wall.
Thirteen days left.
I visited the old family residence to see Grandpa Henry.
Despite being in his eighties, he was still remarkably energetic.
"Did you and Simon argue again?" he asked, noticing my downcast mood.
I shook my head.
He continued, "Not long ago, Mateo happened to see your résumé in Brian’s table. Have you already decided to go abroad?"
Brian was one of Grandpa’s former students, so he often visited him.
I remained silent for a moment before forcing a distant smile. "Grandpa, I’m tired. If Simon’s heart isn’t with me, I won’t force it. It’s better for both of us to part ways peacefully."
Grandpa Henry sighed but didn’t try to dissuade me. "As long as you’ve thought it through. Brian is reliable—if he’s helping you overseas, I can rest easy."
My eyes stung with tears.
Before leaving, I made a solemn request. "Please don’t tell him about this for now."
"Alright." He nodded.
As I stepped out the door, I ran straight into Simon.
At that instant, his face darkened as he snapped, "Running to Grandpa to complain again? Are you a child?"
"Grandpa is old—he doesn’t need to be burdened with these trivial matters. Why are you so selfish?"
He bombarded me with accusations, but I didn’t respond. Instead, I walked to the car, opened the door, and retrieved a silk camisole that wasn’t mine.
I handed it to him and intoned coldly, "Next time you bring someone into the car, check thoroughly. Don’t leave things behind to disgust me."
When he saw the item, a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
He quickly stammered, "This must’ve been left by a colleague I gave a ride to last time. Don’t overthink it."
I replied calmly, "I’m not overthinking."
At this point, I didn’t care enough to argue.
Without sparing him another glance, I got into my car and drove off.
The old me would have been devastated, but now? I couldn’t even muster the energy to care about Simon, let alone a piece of clothing.
By the time I arrived home, it was already past noon.
I was about to order takeout when a message suddenly popped up on my phone.
It was from Abigail.
[Valerie, I’m carrying Simon’s child.]
As I read the message, a wave of nausea surged within me.
Covering my mouth, I rushed to the sink. While splashing water on my face, a chilling thought crossed my mind.
Am I pregnant?
...
At the hospital, I clutched the pregnancy report. My emotions were a tangled mess.
I gently touched my belly, sitting there in a daze for what it felt like forever.
It wasn’t until Simon called that I realized tears were streaming down my face.
Wiping them away, I answered the phone.
"Valerie, I got you front-row tickets to the concert you’ve been wanting to see. Let’s go together the day after tomorrow."
