Chapter 3

Elena's POV

I didn't realize I'd left my bag in the hospital until I walked out.

The midday sun was so bright that I could hardly open my eyes.

I was about to step down toward the shade of a nearby tree when I heard rapid footsteps behind me.

"Elena, where are you going by yourself?"

Ryan's voice came from behind me, with an urgency he probably didn't realize was there.

I didn't turn around, but I could feel clearly that he had stopped at the boundary where shadow met light—and gone no further.

"You're overthinking this. There's nothing between me and Lilian." His voice had dropped slightly, and then steadied again quickly.

I stood in the shade and said nothing.

A moment later, a stifled cry came from the direction of the stairwell entrance.

"Ryan... my stomach hurts a bit."

Lilian's voice was small and trembling.

I heard Ryan draw a sharp breath.

He called my name again—but this time there was a clear hesitation in it.

I still didn't turn around. I could feel my unborn child reaching out too, quietly waiting for the care of its father.

Before all of this, I would have gone running to Ryan in tears, desperate for comfort. The thought that my child and I might only have one chance between us—I didn't know how to face it.

But I couldn't make myself forget what I had just witnessed and go blindly fall in love.

Ryan made his choice quickly.

Footsteps moved away in the opposite direction.

"Go home on your own," he told me, his voice settling back into its usual cool and distance. "She's not feeling well right now."

"And stop making scenes."

Those words were a dull blade, slowly severing the last thread of hope I'd been holding.

When I got home, the house was empty.

I stood in the entryway and suddenly realized that this place hadn't truly belonged to me in a long time.

The main bedroom—larger, airier—had been given to Lilian by Ryan. The lounge chair in the living room, the bowl of fruit Ryan had cut himself and left on the table—all of it was for another woman.

The whole house was saturated with Lilian's perfume. As a vampire, Ryan's sense of smell should have been far sharper than mine, but he had chosen to notice nothing—even claiming that my nausea and vomiting were performed to drive me away.

Somehow, she had become more of a mistress of this house than I was. More like Ryan's wife.

And I was just someone who wasn't loved or taken care of by him.

I didn't sit down to rest. I went straight to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe.

Clothes were taken off one by one, folded and put into the suitcase. The gifts Ryan had given me I pulled out one by one and dropped in the trash.

I endured the pain in my stomach, moving slowly but my mind had never been so clear.

Last, I opened the drawer and took out the marriage certificate. I looked at it for a moment, then closed it again.

Three years of marriage. In the end, all that remained of it was this single piece of paper.

I was latching the suitcase when I heard the lock on the front door.

Ryan was back.

He came in with Lilian at his side, his hand at her elbow, careful and steady, as though she might shatter.

"You frightened her," he said. "Lilian's still shaken up."

Lilian stood beside him, pale, and spoke quietly.

"Elena, please don't misunderstand." She looked at me, her voice soft. "I'm only staying here because the baby and I need somewhere to live."

"Once the baby is born, I'll leave right away. Ryan and I... there's truly nothing going on."

She had barely finished the sentence before the tears came. Ryan tightened his arm around her and murmured something to calm her.

The moment those words left her mouth, something inside my chest nearly exploded.

"Nothing?" I looked at Ryan. "Then what exactly is this you're doing right now?"

He frowned.

"Can you just be reasonable?"

"She's a human pregnant woman. She needs care."

"And what about me?" I shot back. "Wasn't I eight months pregnant?"

He paused for a beat, then said impatiently:

"It's different. Your child is strong—I can feel it. You've adjusted. Lilian's baby has always been fragile, and you're the one who hit her. I'm cleaning up your mess. How can you be this selfish?"

"She stays here tonight. She'll keep staying." Ryan continued. "Don't even think about forcing Lilian out. That's not your call."

For months, Lilian had been faking illness to draw Ryan's attention, and my husband had been spending nearly every night in her room caring for her. He had dismissed every sign of my own distress as jealousy or drama.

What he didn't know was that the one in this house slowly being destroyed by pregnancy—dangerously so—was me. Not the woman playing fragile.

I had confronted him before—asked him point-blank whether he regretted marrying me, whether he just wanted to be with Lilian.

If that was the truth, I told him, I wouldn't beg.

But Ryan had always deflected. He said that as a vampire, he could sense that Lilian's baby was unusually vulnerable, which was why he gave her more attention. He insisted he felt nothing for her beyond sympathy.

And so, holding onto that small, pitiful scrap of hope, I swallowed my doubts until yesterday.

I never expected to see the two of them being so affectionate in the hospital, openly passing themselves off as husband and wife in front of a doctor.

"If you can't stand being around Lilian," he said, his tone going cold, "you can move to one of the other houses."

The air in the room hardened.

Lilian looked almost startled, reaching out to catch his sleeve.

"Ryan, don't say that." She kept her voice gentle. "Elena isn't actually going to leave."

She glanced at me. The triumph in her eyes was barely disguised.

Ryan nodded, following her lead.

"She won't go," he said with calm certainty. "She doesn't have it in her. And she wouldn't dare."

"Without my protection, where would she even go?"

In that moment, I understood something clearly.

In his mind, I had no way out. I was simply a human he could threaten at will—one who would never dare defy him or actually go through with a divorce.

I said nothing else. I turned and took hold of the suitcase I'd already packed.

The wheels made a clear sound across the floor.

Ryan finally registered that something was wrong, and looked up.

"What are you doing?"

I stopped, but didn't turn around.

"You said so yourself," I said. "If I don't want to see her, I can leave."

The moment I pulled the door open, the night wind rushed in.

The light from inside, their silhouettes, three years of everything—I left it all behind the closing door.