The Complete Drain Of Love

After I left the villa, I wandered the streets for a long time. It was late at night when I returned home.

As usual, Susan, the housekeeper, brought over some alternative medicine and placed it before me.

A faint metallic tang lingered in the air. I breathed in the familiar scent and fell into a daze.

After marrying Michael, we never conceived a child. A hospital check revealed my womb was the one at fault. It would be difficult for me to conceive.

When I found out, I had wept endlessly. Michael could not bear to see me in that state, so he searched the entire country for renowned doctors.

He finally found a highly respected local practitioner of traditional alternative medicine. That practitioner claimed that blood drawn from a man’s fingertip could be used as a catalyst to help treat a woman’s infertility.

Since then, Michael carried a small knife with him at all times. That way, he could draw blood whenever I needed it.

Over the years, his fingertips had been cut so many times they no longer looked the same.

He even gave up his dreams of playing the piano.

I drank the tonic he prepared with his blood for five years.

I once thought he simply wanted me to recover quickly so that we could have a child together.

I never imagined that his sacrifice was only to ensure I would never bear his child.

At that thought, I gave a bitter smile and shook my head.

I was already struggling to conceive, so why would he go so far?

It seemed clear he truly never wanted me to give birth to his child.

When Michael entered the room, I was still staring blankly at the bowl in my hands.

Seeing me like that, he pulled me into his arms and asked softly, “What are you thinking about, honey? Is the medicine too bitter? Do you want me to get you some candy?”

As he spoke, he seemed to produce a piece of candy from his pocket magically.

Looking at his gentle expression, my stomach churned violently.

I forced down the disgust and said calmly, “It’s nothing. Maybe the wind got to me while I was out earlier, so the smell of the medicine is making me feel sick.”

Michael’s lips pressed into a worried, tight line.

“The weather’s colder these days, and you’re not dressed warmly. Are you feeling unwell? Let’s go to the hospital for a checkup.”

I shook my head.

“It’s fine. I already feel much better.”

When I persisted, he gave up the idea of going to the hospital.

My eyes stung when I looked down at the bowl in my hands.

Michael truly wanted nothing more than to keep me from ever bearing his child.

If he really liked Rachel, I would have willingly conceded. There was no need for him to scheme against me so cruelly.

After I finished the medicine, Michael gently wiped away the residue at the corner of my lips.