Chapter 1

I, Julianna Warren, slowly pushed myself up against the wall. I rested a hand over my flat stomach as tears that had just stopped began falling again.

To be honest, Ian should've known that I had miscarried.

This morning, when I saw the steady flow of blood clots in the bathroom, I immediately asked Ian to take me to the hospital for an examination.

At the time, he was sorting through some documents. When he looked at me, his brows furrowed slightly.

"Why are you bleeding so much? Don't you even know how to deal with your period?

"I don't have time to go to the hospital with you and watch you make a fool of yourself. Clean it up quickly. Don't get blood on the floor.

"The house may not be renovated yet, but we still need to keep it clean."

His first reaction when he saw me bleeding wasn't panic or concern. Instead, it was unmistakable disgust.

Even the unfinished concrete floor, which hadn't even been tiled, seemed cleaner to him than my blood.

I endured the pain and carefully wiped the blood from the floor. Just as I was about to put on my coat and ask Ian to take me to the hospital, Tina Stewart called.

"Ian, I'd like some savory pastries and seafood chowder from Bright Moon Diner for breakfast. Could you take a detour and pick them up for me later?

"You know I can't work on my designs without breakfast."

Ian hadn't put the call on speaker, but Tina's clingy voice still came through loud and clear.

I hurried forward and tried to stop Ian, but he merely glanced at me and pointed to the floor behind me.

"It's dirty again."

Those three words had me pinned to the spot.

His tone was gentle as he responded to Tina's request. Although I was still bleeding, he walked out the door without even looking back.

To him, picking up breakfast for Tina was probably more important.

My phone vibrated. It instantly pulled me back to reality.

My best friend, Ivy Jackson, had sent me a message.

[Julianna, do you regret it?]

She was referring to my decision to undergo the uterine scraping procedure.

After a series of examinations at the hospital, I stared at the diagnosis of a threatened miscarriage on the report and found myself crying and laughing at the same time.

Before I even had the chance to learn that I was pregnant, I had already lost the baby.

The doctor had given me two options.

One was to actively try to save the pregnancy, and the other was to forcefully terminate it.

Thinking back to Ian's attitude and reaction before I left home, I barely hesitated before choosing the latter.

[I have no regrets. I feel completely relieved now.]

Ivy immediately sent me three thumbs-up emojis.

[You finally see the truth.]

[So what now? Are you still going to work at the design firm?]

[You've been working in the operations department for years, and every piece of promotional content you made was about Ian and Tina. You should've been sick of it long ago.]

I paused and opened the promotional posts I had worked on previously.

Every headline I submitted had been rejected and sent back for rewriting because Tina wasn't satisfied with it.

Eventually, Tina took over writing the headlines herself.

[Your Industry-Certified, All-Star Architecture and Design Duo!]

There were countless headlines like that, each filled with phrases like 'industry-certified' and 'design duo.'

Many netizens had even created a dedicated fan community for the two of them, promoting them as the most perfectly matched couple of the 21st century.

Once I had composed myself, I replied to Ivy's messages.

[It doesn't matter if I'm sick of it anymore.]

[My application for an interior design training program was approved. I'll be leaving South City soon.]

My post-operative observation period was over. A nurse approached and softly told me I could leave.

Before I left, she patted my shoulder sympathetically.

"Ms. Warren, next time you have a procedure, make sure you have a family member accompany you.

"Especially since you're still weak. You shouldn't leave the hospital alone.

"What's your husband's phone number? I can contact him for you."

She was already reaching for her phone when I smiled and gently pressed her hand down.

"I don't have a husband. Thank you for your concern. I'll take good care of myself from here on out."