A needle pierced my skin, delivering a slow stream of anesthetic into my veins.
The unanswered call still flickered on my phone’s screen.
Tears slipped silently from the corners of my eyes, but my fingers had lost the strength to dial again.
‘Allen, the thing I regret most in this life is marrying you.’
My hands fell limply to my sides.
As the anesthesia took hold, a white sheet was pulled over my face, and I was wheeled into the operating room.
Three days ago, I found out I was pregnant.
I never had the chance to share the news with Allen.
Instead, I stumbled upon tens of thousands of photos of Sadie hidden on his computer.
At that moment, I finally understood why he insisted on keeping our marriage a secret and why he always kept his distance.
To him, I was nothing more than a tool to appease his family.
Only those closest to him even knew he was married.
And all these years, the woman he loved had always been Sadie.
When she left for overseas, he expanded his business abroad. Every work trip, every meeting, was just an excuse to catch a glimpse of her.
My messages, my worried phone calls—everything I did was nothing but an unbearable burden to him.
That night, I asked him for a divorce.
He refused.
The next day, he packed his bags and moved into his office.
Our first cold war began.
I drafted the divorce papers and waited for him to come home and sign them.
But what arrived first was a diagnosis—late-stage cancer.
I took a taxi to his company to tell him everything.
Before I could reach him, Sadie’s people dragged me to the hospital.
She forced my hand onto a donation agreement, pressing my fingerprint onto the paper.
When she left, she forgot to take my phone.
I pinned all my hopes on Allen.
I called him ninety-nine times, begging for his help.
But in the end, this was the answer I got.
‘I’m tired. I won’t struggle anymore. Allen, this time, I’ll set you free.’
