Chapter 4

I thought, since he was the father of the child, he still had the right to know.

The next morning, Shane also woke up very early, but it wasn't because of my words.

Astrid was throwing a tantrum and had been packing her things early this morning.

The moment I got up, I heard Shane on the phone contacting a real estate agent.

"Is that place close to the subway? How is the neighborhood environment? Property management? Take a video so I can have a look."

He questioned every detail, from the neighborhood security gate to the brand of the elevator and what kind of people the neighbors upstairs and downstairs were.

He asked if there was any chemical smell in the rooms, which direction the windows opened, whether there was heating in the winter, and if the afternoon sun exposure was severe in the summer.

It was completely unlike when we first decided to move in together.

Back then, he was busy, so I was the one responsible for viewing apartments.

Since it was our first time living together, I couldn't resist filming every single detail to share and discuss with him.

He told me to cut it out, saying none of those things were important.

I just watched him like that until he hung up the phone.

"Do you have time to chat with me now?"

He put on his coat and glanced up at me.

"No time right now. The apartment Astrid likes is quite popular. If we go late, it'll be gone. Whatever your issue is, we'll talk about it tonight."

When the door closed, the living room fell into complete silence.

I sat there for a very long time.

Then I packed up my things and placed the items I was leaving for Shane on top of the cabinet at the entryway.

The split second before entering the operating room, perhaps out of unwillingness, or perhaps something else, I sent a message: [If I had a baby, what would you do?]

He replied within a second.

[I am very busy. No need to tell me about these trivial matters.]

The programmed automated response yet again.

I suddenly let out a laugh.

It was self-mockery at my own stupidity, but also a sense of release.

Astrid, on the other hand, did send me a message.

[Mabel, it's truly a blessing to have a friend like you.

[Shane is so incredibly nice to his girlfriend's friend. He even treated the neighbors upstairs and downstairs to coffee and gave them little gifts, saying it was so I could live peacefully in the future.

[He said he's going to stay over at my place for one night tonight to check if the security is bad. But don't worry, there are two rooms.]

I stared at that message for a very long time.

The nurse came to urge me to go inside.

"Is there anyone here to accompany you?"

I shook my head.

"No."

I signed the paperwork for myself and entered the operating room.

When certain things are removed from your body, it hurts.

However, the greater pain had already been there long ago.

An abortion procedure is merely a minor surgery.

The next morning, I could already process my discharge. The wound still hurt, but I could walk.

I went directly to the airport.

Five years—a long, drawn-out act of self-deception finally reached its absolute end today.

While checking in, I turned on my phone, and the surveillance camera installed at home popped up with a motion alert.

Shane was finally back home.

He called out my name a few times, but received no response.

Then, he spotted the envelope I had left behind.

Inside was the debit card he had once handed over to me, along with the abortion form.

The exact moment he flipped it open, he froze.