Solenne stepped out of the hospital, still clutching the report in her hand, dazed and hollow.
The abortion was scheduled for eight in the morning tomorrow.
She had wanted this child so badly. Now, she didn’t want it at all.
What was once a long-awaited surprise had become a suffocating burden.
She drifted home like a ghost. Hungry, but with no appetite, she decided to cook something anyway—just to keep busy.
Halfway through, she accidentally knocked over a pan left on the burner.
With a loud clang, hot oil splattered everywhere, catching her hand.
“Ah!” she cried out in pain, unable to hold it in.
“Babe! What happened?”
Right then, Rockwell walked in. He’d just gotten home and immediately heard her scream.
Panic shot through him as he rushed into the kitchen.
There she was—on the floor, surrounded by the mess. His face changed instantly.
“You burned yourself? Come with me. I’m taking you to the hospital.” His voice was rushed and full of concern.
Without waiting for a response, he scooped her up and carried her out.
At the hospital, he stayed by her side the entire time, not leaving for even a second while the doctor checked and treated her injury.
“Next time, wait for me to come back and cook. These hands of yours are made for painting, not for kitchen accidents. What if the injury had been worse?”
His eyes were full of worry as he looked at her red, scalded hand.
Something about his expression tugged at her heart.
‘The concern on his face—it doesn’t look fake. So maybe… maybe some part of this whole act isn’t a lie. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a little truth in how he treats me.’
“You haven’t eaten yet, right? I’ll go grab something for you.”
Just as he turned to leave, he froze.
Following his line of sight, Solenne looked up—just in time to see Chesca walking toward them.
She instantly noticed the way his body tensed as Chesca’s eyes lit up in surprise.
“Rockwell? What are you doing here? Are you sick?”
The moment he saw her, Rockwell stiffened, his expression faltering with guilt.
“No… it’s nothing. My sister-in-law burned herself cooking. My brother’s not around, so I had to bring her in.”
“Oh, I see,” Chesca nodded in understanding.
Solenne watched the unease on his face—the way he scrambled to explain himself, desperate not to be misunderstood.
She gave a bitter smile and looked away.
That little flicker of warmth she felt earlier—gone.
‘How could I forget?’ Even if Rockwell had a sliver of real affection for her, the one he truly loved… was never her.
And any truth buried in his lies wasn’t worth sacrificing herself for.
“So, what about you? Why are you suddenly in the hospital?” he asked.
“I’ve been dealing with a cold. Came to get some meds. Actually, I’m headed to a welcome-back dinner a friend threw for me. Want to come?”
The way they talked—casual, familiar—it made her want to decline immediately. She didn’t belong there.
But before she could say anything, Rockwell spoke first.
“Sure, let’s go. We haven’t had dinner anyway. Might as well tag along.”
Chesca smiled, looking over at her. “Perfect.”
Rockwell drove them to the venue—a private room on the second floor of an upscale restaurant.
As soon as they sat down, he pushed away the iced drinks and asked the server to bring over some warm honey water.
When it arrived, he placed it in front of Chesca and said naturally, “Don’t drink anything cold, especially if you’re catching a cold. And aren’t you about to start your period?”
His gesture drew lighthearted teasing from the people around the table.
“All these years and Rockwell is still this attentive with Chesca, huh? He even remembers her cycle—now that’s commitment!”
“Well, of course he remembers,” someone laughed. “Chesca’s his first love, after all. When she moved overseas and married that French guy, didn’t Rockwell mope around for a whole month?”
Inside the room, Norman joined in with exaggerated winks and teasing.
“Miss Sherald here is gorgeous, talented, and already a well-known artist at such a young age. Who wouldn’t fall for her? It’s only natural that Rockwell liked her once.
“I wasn’t sure if he really did before, but now…”
He trailed off deliberately, but everyone chuckled knowingly, casting ambiguous looks at the old flames.
Chesca blushed from their teasing and shyly said, “Come on, don’t joke around. You’re making something out of nothing. Besides, I’ve already been married and divorced. I’m not good enough for Rockwell.”
“You’re good enough for anyone. The one who’s not good enough… is me,” Rockwell quickly jumped in, afraid she actually meant what she said—that she wasn’t worthy of him.
Up until this point, Solenne had been silently sitting there, barely noticed.
All eyes were on Rockwell and Chesca, laughing and joking, caught up in their own world. Solenne didn’t even have the right to question him.
To everyone else, she was just his future sister-in-law—his eldest brother’s fiancée. To everyone else, she had nothing to do with Rockwell.
“I’m going to the restroom,” Solenne said quietly.
But Rockwell didn’t even glance her way. All his attention was still on Chesca.
Seeing this, Solenne forced a faint smile, got up on her own, and walked away.
Chesca had noticed. The corners of her lips curved upward ever so slightly. She excused herself, saying she also needed the restroom, and followed behind Solenne.
When Solenne came out, she found Chesca standing by the sink, clearly waiting for her.
“Do you need something?” Solenne asked, her expression calm and unreadable.
Chesca smiled.
It was a smile laced with superiority, with mockery, and a hint of victory.
She spoke slowly, almost lazily, “You saw it yourself tonight, didn’t you? The one Rockwell really loves… is me. If you had even a shred of self-awareness, you’d stay away from him. Don’t let him run off with you.”
The words hit Solenne like a jolt.
At that moment, she realized, ‘So she’s not some innocent little rabbit. She knows everything.’
But how? Rockwell would never tell her. He wouldn’t risk Chesca misunderstanding his concern.
Seeing Solenne’s calm reaction, Chesca let out a quiet chuckle.
“Do you know what Rockwell was really doing the first time he promised to run away with you?”
Solenne’s throat tightened, her voice hoarse. “Didn’t… didn’t he get into a car accident?”
She remembered it so clearly—the day they planned to run away together was the day she was supposed to get engaged to Luther.
But Rockwell didn’t show up.
The next day, she was told he’d been in a car crash. She saw him unconscious in the hospital with her own eyes.
“He wasn’t in a car crash,” Chesca revealed flatly. “He flew to Paris to celebrate my birthday.
“As for the hospital? With his resources, do you really think bribing a doctor to lie to you was hard?”
She scoffed, almost like she was laughing at how pathetic Solenne had been.
The truth hit Solenne so hard, she could barely stand. Her mind went completely blank.
She had knowj Rockwell didn’t love her. But hearing it spoken out loud—so cruel, so direct—felt like a knife plunging straight into her chest.
Outside the restroom, Rockwell’s voice called out, “Chesca? What’s taking so long? Is everything okay?”
And then, without a moment’s hesitation, Chesca slapped herself across the face. Hard.
A red handprint bloomed across her pale cheek as she staggered backward and fell to the floor with a sharp, deliberate scream.
“Ahh! I didn’t do anything to you! Why would you hit me?!”
Her voice trembled with tears and fear—loud enough to reach Rockwell’s ears.
Without thinking, he rushed into the women’s restroom.
There she was—Chesca on the floor, a red mark across her cheek.
And beside her—Solenne.
Without even pausing to ask, Rockwell raised his hand and slapped Solenne hard.
“Are you out of your mind?! She didn’t even do anything to you! If you have a problem, take it out on me! Why would you hit her?!”
For the first time, he spoke to her with such fury, such sharpness in both tone and eyes.
The force of the slap sent Solenne to the floor. Her cheek swelled instantly, her mouth filling with the taste of blood.
She was stunned.
Her ears rang, her vision blurred, and her mind went blank.
