Sylvie's face turned deathly pale. Without a moment's hesitation, she grabbed her phone, booked the earliest ticket, and rushed to the hospital without stopping.
Along the way, she clutched her phone tightly, her fingers trembling as she silently prayed.
Please, let Mom be okay.
But when she arrived and saw her mother lying motionless on the hospital bed, tubes attached to her frail body, tears spilled uncontrollably down her cheeks.
"How… how did this happen?" Her voice cracked as she turned to her mother’s best friend, who stood anxiously by the bedside. "The nursing home said her blood pressure was stable! Why did she suddenly—?"
The woman hesitated, her face pale with fear.
"I… I don’t know! Rosalie was looking at her phone when she suddenly fainted! We struggled to carry her here in time!"
Sylvie’s heart pounded. She spun around, frantically searching.
Her mother’s phone—where was it?
Finally, she spotted it amidst a pile of medicines.
Her hands shook as she picked it up, her mind racing.
The passcode.
Her birthday.
With a trembling breath, she unlocked the screen.
A video was still playing.
Sylvie hesitated, her pulse erratic, before pressing play.
The moment the footage resumed, her entire body froze.
The screen revealed that nightmare—the day she was assaulted.
The man in black. The struggle. Her cries.
A choked sob escaped her lips as her vision blurred with fresh tears.
Her mother… had seen this?
Had this been the reason for her collapse?
Sylvie’s grip tightened around the phone, her nails digging into her palm.
There was only one person who could have leaked this.
Ivy.
Blood rushed to her head. Her chest heaved as she let out a gut-wrenching scream, her pain echoing through the cold, sterile hospital walls.
—
After her mother’s condition stabilized, Sylvie returned home.
But with every step closer, a searing pain tore through her chest.
It hurt.
Every breath, every movement felt like a blade slicing through her soul.
By the time she reached her doorstep, her feet felt like lead. It took everything in her to move forward.
Then, laughter drifted from inside.
A familiar voice rang out, light and joyful, shattering what was left of her sanity.
"Really? Am I really pregnant?"
Gideon’s eyes shone with uncontainable excitement, like twin suns burning with joy.
"It’s true! I just found out today," Ivy said softly, a faint blush tinting her cheeks.
Gideon ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth, his thoughts racing. "I have to tell my parents. How should I even start?"
His excitement was so overwhelming that he almost didn’t notice the figure standing in the doorway.
Sylvie.
"Sylvie, come in!" Gideon beamed, grabbing her hand as if eager to share his happiness. "Ivy is pregnant! I’m going to be a father!"
His joy was radiant, infectious. But Sylvie didn’t feel warmth—only an unbearable cold creeping into her bones.
She stared at him, numb, her fingers icy in his grip.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally whispered, "Congratulations."
The words tasted bitter on her tongue.
Her vision blurred as tears welled up, yet all she saw was emptiness. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, as if trying to contain the unbearable pain threatening to shatter her from within.
That night, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Ivy moved into Gideon’s bedroom.
Sylvie lay alone in her cold, empty bed. Her lips were pale, her body curled tightly, and silent tears soaked into the pillow beneath her.
She had lost.
In the dead of night, a sharp knock shattered the silence.
"Sylvie, are you awake? Get up!" Gideon’s urgent voice echoed through the door.
Sylvie forced herself up, her body heavy with exhaustion, and dragged herself to open it.
Before she could speak, Gideon cut in impatiently.
"Ivy is hungry. She wants shrimp wontons. Go make some."
Sylvie froze.
She looked at him, disbelief flickering in her weary eyes.
"It’s the middle of the night," she murmured, her voice hoarse. "Where am I supposed to find shrimp wontons at this hour?"
