4

Zac pulled me into the stairwell, anger still apparent in his expression. "What were you saying in front of a child?"

I rubbed my wrist, which he had gripped and reddened, and questioned him, "Which part of what I said was wrong?

"Was it your 'wife' part or the one part about him causing the death of my child?"

Zac's face darkened instantly.

"That incident was an accident—" He began to defend himself.

I leaned against the hospital wall, silently watching him. "Do you even believe that yourself?"

A year ago, I rushed back from a business trip, excited to share my pregnancy news with Zac. However, upon entering our home, I found it in complete chaos. The staircase was cluttered with shattered wedding photos.

As I went upstairs to investigate, I didn't expect the staircase to be slippery from spilled shower gel. I slipped and tumbled down the stairs, resulting in the loss of the baby I was carrying.

"At that time, you told me it was your relative's child causing trouble at our house," I bitterly recalled. "That's what led to that accident. Zac Saunders, do you have any conscience?"

He tried to speak but struggled to find words. Tears streamed down my face, and my posture slumped.

"How could you, Zac Saunders? How could you?" I cried out. Losing the child haunted my nights, and I couldn't sleep. I would dream of the child, covered in blood, blaming me for not protecting him.

The accumulated grief took a toll, and my emotions spiraled out of control. I blamed myself for being careless, blamed him for not cleaning up the mess, and blamed the relative's child.

Zac, who initially felt pity and guilt, gradually grew impatient. He scolded me, calling me crazy, saying the child was too young to understand.

Little did I know, this child was actually his.