Chapter 2

Before leaving, I went to the OB-GYN alone.

After blood work and the initial exam, the doctor looked at the ultrasound and gave me careful instructions.

"You're about four weeks along. The fetal pole is still faint. Your progesterone is low..."

"Your situation requires proper rest. Have your husband come pick you up."

I held that thin report in my hand, and my heart suddenly felt chaotic. I stood there at a loss.

I had already decided to take this child and leave. But in that moment, I still instinctively pulled out my phone, scrolled to Damian's number, and dialed with trembling fingers.

I stood at the end of the obstetric corridor. The line rang twice when the VIP clinic door nearby suddenly opened.

Damian was helping Clara out.

Damian's familiar voice cut across half the corridor and straight into my ear.

"Doctor, she hasn't had much appetite lately. The smell of cooking oil makes her nauseous. Is there something you can prescribe?"

My hand froze around the phone.

I looked up. A dozen meters away, at the clinic entrance, Damian was carefully escorting Clara out.

Clara was draped in his suit jacket, leaning against him, looking tired but smiling sweetly.

The attending physician was giving detailed instructions. "Some nausea and drowsiness in early pregnancy is normal. If her constitution is weak, she needs to rest more. Don't let her overexert herself. Family members need to pay extra attention."

"Okay, I've got it." Damian nodded seriously, his tone gentle and steady. "I'll make sure the housekeeper cooks lighter meals. She won't have to smell cooking oil."

So Clara was pregnant.

So these past few days, when he'd cleared his schedule and come running whenever she called, it wasn't just to soothe her nightmares. He was dutifully accompanying his childhood sweetheart to her prenatal appointments.

I hung up, put my phone away, and turned to leave.

"Watch out!"

A nurse pushing an IV stand rushed around the corner. I was distracted, didn't dodge in time, and my shoulder hit the stand. The thermos in my hand clattered to the terrazzo floor. Warm water splashed everywhere.

The loud noise made everyone in the corridor turn.

Damian turned. His gaze cut through the crowd and landed on my face.

His body jolted. Obvious shock crossed his eyes.

"Vivian?! What are you doing here?!"

He hurried toward me, his eyes scanning my face anxiously.

"Are you sick? Why are you at the hospital alone?"

"Mild anemia. Just here to pick up some iron supplements." I stepped back half a pace, avoiding his hand. My tone was cool.

"Vivian, what a coincidence."

Clara walked over slowly in flat shoes, holding her freshly printed prenatal report.

She wore an innocent, considerate smile.

"The doctor just gave Damian a whole list of things to watch out for. He was more nervous than I was. He even pushed back his morning meeting to bring me. Vivian, please don't blame him."

My eyes locked on the words on the report: "Four weeks pregnant."

Damian started to explain. "Vivian, it's not what you think. Let me explain..."

But Clara grabbed his arm and cut him off. "Damian, didn't we already talk about this?"

Damian froze. Struggle flickered in his eyes.

I turned and walked toward the elevator.

"Vivian!" Damian called after me, taking a step to follow.

Clara tugged his sleeve. "Damian, you promised me!"

Damian's steps stopped cold.

The elevator doors closed silently in front of me.

In the last second before they shut, I saw him stay by Clara's side.

I closed my eyes and pressed my hand gently against my flat stomach.

Fine.

If two prenatal reports had landed in the same place, then mine didn't need to be handed over.