Faye's POV
But it didn't end there. Instead of comforting me, he even berated me. “I work hard every day to make money, and all you do is watch the kids and cook. How is that so difficult?”
Every morning, I’d wake up at six to make him breakfast. After eating, he’d leave for work without a second thought, leaving me to handle a crying baby and a mountain of chores.
While I cooked, the baby would inevitably start crying. I’d rush to pick him up, cradling him with one arm while awkwardly stirring a pan with the other.
In the chaos of daily life, where was the time to take care of myself? Day after day, I neglected my appearance until I hardly recognized the woman in the mirror.
Six years was all it took for time to leave its mark on me—strands of gray in my hair, fine lines at the corners of my eyes.
After our first child, he told me he wanted a son to "complete the family." He also insisted I stay home and not return to work.
Out of love and commitment, I agreed.
But why? Why did sacrificing everything for him lead to nothing but his coldness and disdain?
I tried to live up to his expectations, hoping he could treat me as well as before. But why couldn't he?
Turning on the light, I sat at my vanity, running my fingers over my tired, pale face.
I used to cherish my reflection. Now, it only brought me sadness.
Overwhelmed with despair, I picked up my phone and called my mother.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
Hearing her familiar voice broke the dam holding back my tears. They streamed down my face uncontrollably.
“Mom,” I choked out, barely able to speak.
Despite saying only a word, she immediately recognized me and was filled with worry. “Is that you, my dear? Are you crying? What happened?”
My voice trembled as I tried to stay calm. “I’m fine. I just… I miss you. Mom, if I come back, am I still welcome?”
Her response was firm and full of love. “Of course, honey! You’re my daughter. You’re always welcome home.”
My thoughts drifted back to when I first met Dwight in college. He was a sophomore who boldly confessed his love for me. Despite his humble background, I fell for him completely.
Everyone warned me not to marry a poor man, but I didn’t listen.
After graduation, I turned down a family-arranged match and moved to New York with him, despite my parent's disapproval.
I stood by him through every struggle, from being a broke young man to becoming the owner of a successful company.
And yet, he still hadn’t given me the grand wedding he once promised.
I opened the bedroom door to find the house empty. The guests had all left, leaving behind a mess of half-eaten food and dirty dishes.
Without hesitation, I turned and walked out.
Flagging down a taxi, I told the driver to take me to the hospital.
When I arrived, the doctor looked at me with concern. “You’re already more than seven months along. An induction at this stage is extremely risky and will be very painful. Are you sure about this?”
My voice didn’t waver. “I’m sure. Schedule it.”
With a resigned sigh, the doctor handed me a consent form. “Alright. Please sign this.”
The procedure was set for two days later.
Dragging my exhausted, swollen body back home, I called a cleaning service to deal with the mess.
Just as I was about to lie down and rest, I heard a noise at the front door.
Dwight had returned, and with him came Lizzie Clem. Beside her was a white suitcase.
