Chapter 3

I never expected the child to show up—so when it left, I felt no sadness. Only a quiet sense of how life plays its little tricks.

While my thoughts drifted, the nurse came in for rounds.

She gave me a once-over. "You're awake? Your attending physician covered your medical bills. You didn't have a phone on you when you came in. We had no way to contact your family."

Then she pulled her phone from her pocket and handed it to me. "Since you're awake now, you can call them yourself."

I knew Callum's number by heart.

I dialed. The line connected quickly.

A sweet, girlish voice answered. "Hi, Callum's busy right now. If it's something important, please call back later."

Bitterness rose in my throat. I kept my voice steady. "Alright."

She recognized me. Her tone changed, light and mocking. "Oh, it's Diana. Callum said he won't be taking your calls anymore. I hope you'll stop disturbing us."

She was about to hang up when I spoke softly, "Wait… let me just say a few words to him."

But before I could speak, she sniffled and began to cry.

"Callum, does Diana really like you?" Her voice trembled, loud enough for me to hear every word. "She knows how we feel about each other, but she still won't back off. If she truly loved you, I'd even give you up for her."

He sighed. "Caryn, don't talk like that. Diana was my brother's girlfriend."

The nurse standing nearby shifted uncomfortably, cleared her throat, then turned away—pretending not to hear.

I tightened the blanket over my aching body, pressing against the pain in my chest with every breath.

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

I sat still for a moment, then called my agent.

A miscarriage wasn't considered a major procedure. I was discharged the same day.

Back home, I arranged for someone to replace the window Callum had broken the night before.

Then I slid the medical report into the top drawer of my bedside table.

That drawer held all my most precious things:

The belongings my parents left behind, Sean's keepsakes, proof that my child had existed, and the charm pendant Callum had begged for on my behalf when I fell ill three years ago.

I took out Sean's belongings—there was still a faint bloodstain on them.

I talked to him for a long time, updating him on Callum, on everything.

Then, carefully, I placed it all back inside.

"Sean," I whispered, "I'm going to live my own life now."

After locking the drawer, I packed my luggage and booked a flight five days out.

For the next five days, I stayed home and painted.

Callum, meanwhile, was off traveling with Caryn. Their couple photos were sent to me, one after another, from an unfamiliar number.

I knew it was Caryn.

During those five days, Callum called me more than once. I didn't answer.

Then, the day they returned, I got a call from another unknown number.

"Diana," Caryn said, her tone giddy, "Callum proposed to me."

We'd only spoken three times before, and I'd barely said a word each time.

Now, I gave her a single response. "Alright."

Then she sent me a photo—her hand with a ring on it.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my chest and replied, "Congratulations."

Then I ended the call and drove to the airport.

Just before boarding, a message from Callum popped up.

[Diana, where are you? You're not home.]

Then his calls came, one after another. I ignored them all.

Only when I was about to turn off my phone did I finally answer.

"Callum," I said. "Take care of yourself. Goodbye."

Then came his voice—rough, almost broken. "I saw what you kept in your nightstand! Is that why you're leaving? Because of your pregnancy and the miscarriage? Are you leaving out of guilt because you think you've let my brother down?"