Chapter 3

Ethan instinctively reached out to step forward, but Chloe caught his arm.

"Ethan, Susan is completely unstable right now. What if you go over there and hurt the baby?"

"I've had kids, I know how this works. Just let her go back and cool off on her own first."

Ethan stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked at her, then looked at me, a flicker of hesitation crossing his eyes.

In the end, his low voice reached my ears.

"Susan, go home first. I'll explain everything later."

I wiped my tears away, every word dragged out from the depths of my lungs.

"Do you remember the oath you took on your knees at his funeral?"

Of course he remembered.

It was pouring rain that day.

Drenched from head to toe, Ethan knelt before the grave and repeated over and over:

"Bro, I let you down. I swear I'll take care of her for you for the rest of my life. I won't let her suffer a single grievance."

Back then, I stood behind him holding the umbrella, weeping with admiration.

I thought it was pure brotherly devotion.

Now I finally understood. It was a promise.

A promise made to Chloe.

I let out a laugh—a sound harsher and uglier than weeping.

"You really kept her from suffering."

"You did an amazing job."

Another wave of tearing pain ripped through me, far more violent than before.

I felt a rush of warm fluid trickling down between my legs.

Ethan finally panicked and rushed over to support me.

"Susan, you..."

"Don't touch me!"

I shoved his hands away, using the last ounce of my strength to defend whatever dignity I had left.

A crease of impatience appeared between Ethan's brows.

"Susan, stop making a scene."

I repeated the words under my breath, then let out a bitter chuckle.

"You think I'm making a scene?"

Instinctively, my hand drifted to my belly.

This was the precious life I had endured five grueling years of fertility treatments to conceive.

Ethan had severe male-factor infertility.

When the diagnosis came out, my parents and friends all begged me to get a divorce.

But I was so deeply in love with him back then.

Just the thought of losing him made me feel like dying.

So I chose the most agonizing path to get pregnant.

Pills, endless hormone injections, bed rest.

My body was covered in dense, painful needle marks.

I had nearly lost my life during the process.

And all that sacrifice amounted to him brushing it off with two casual words: making a scene.

Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as I looked at him in total despair.

"Ethan, let's get a divorce."