Chapter 4

I woke to the sharp smell of disinfectant.

The IV drip was feeding a fetal support medication into my vein, drop by drop.

The on-duty doctor stood at the head of the bed, his expression serious. "You're awake? How could the patient be so careless? Severe emotional fluctuation in early pregnancy triggered contractions. You nearly had a miscarriage. Luckily you were brought in in time. Where's your family? Why is there no one here with you?"

I shook my head calmly. "No family. Just me."

The doctor sighed, shook his head, and walked out. The door didn't close all the way.

Two nurses wheeled an equipment cart past in the corridor. Their voices drifted through the gap, every word clear.

"Did you hear? The one in the private ward next door? Mr. Moretti brought her in himself. Stayed all night."

"Of course I heard. The whole department's talking about it. Mr. Moretti and Mrs. Moretti have been together ten years. Childhood sweethearts. He practically worships his wife."

"I was on night shift last night. I saw him kneel by the bed to put her shoes on. A man like that, willing to kneel for a woman."

"No kidding. I heard Mrs. Moretti said she wanted chestnut cake from that old shop across town. Mr. Moretti drove there at four in the morning. Two hours round trip, just so she could have it the moment she opened her eyes. If that's not love down to the bone, what is?"

"So enviable..."

The medication in the IV bag was ice cold.

I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the white fluorescent light on the ceiling, and felt a clear, quiet relief.

Everyone thought Clara was his wife.

And I had always been invisible.

But thankfully, all of this was about to end.

Dawn broke.

I pressed down on the bleeding needle site, got dressed, and walked out of the ward.

I went back to the villa.

The divorce agreement, with his signature on it, I laid flat in the center of the coffee table, weighed down by the wedding ring I'd worn for four years.

He didn't need to take on the responsibility of being a father. He didn't need to know there was another life in this world connected to his blood.

I and my child would walk out of his world completely.

International airport.

I wore a cream-colored trench coat and sunglasses, sitting quietly on a bench by the boarding gate. In my bag was a one-way ticket to Zurich.

The announcement for the Zurich flight came over the speakers.

I stood, pulled up the handle of my suitcase, and walked toward the gate.

In the corner of my eye, ten meters away at the domestic arrivals gate, a familiar figure suddenly appeared.

Damian was tall and striking, still in that finely tailored dark coat, though his face carried the exhaustion of a sleepless night.

He was turned slightly, one hand carrying Clara's designer bag, the other resting naturally on her shoulder, shielding her from the early morning crowd.

Clara wore a light baseball cap. Her face was still a little pale, but she was relaxed, clinging to his arm, pointing at something on her phone and speaking softly. Probably a postpartum care center.

Damian listened, nodding along, his expression carrying its usual tolerance and care.

The terminal was warm.

Damian seemed to sense something. His steps paused slightly. He instinctively lifted his head and looked in my direction.

But the next second, Clara tugged his sleeve, her voice soft with morning drowsiness.

"Damian, slow down."

Damian looked away and answered quietly.

"Okay. We'll walk slow."

In the half-second he lowered his eyes, a luggage cart piled high with duty-free boxes rumbled between us.

I turned and handed my ticket and passport to the gate agent.

Swiped.

Passed through.

The automatic doors of the boarding bridge closed behind me, sealing off all the mixed voices and familiar scents of the terminal.

The announcer's voice was clear and calm.

"Boarding for the flight to Zurich has begun..."

Beyond the long boarding bridge, a silver-white plane sat quietly on the tarmac in the early morning light.

He was in the crowd, with his childhood sweetheart.

And I held my one-way ticket and walked toward a new life for me and my child.

This time, it was a true passing by.

And a final goodbye.