Especially imagining that big bed I chose myself, where he held Sabrina, whispering the same sweet promises he once told me, I felt sick.
His lips kissed two people, saying identical words—how could he stay so calm?
I stared at Ethan, suppressing a tremor, and slowly spoke four words:
“I’m pregnant!”
Ethan rushed forward to hug me, but I clenched my teeth and slapped him hard.
“Ethan, you don’t deserve to be this child’s father. Let’s get a divorce.”
I couldn’t stop shaking, my voice trembling with emotion.
“That Sabrina, you got drunk for three days over her, even ending up with a stomach hemorrhage, and she still abandoned you and fled abroad.”
“Now she’s back, so you can’t wait to rekindle everything—movies with her, doctor visits with her, then having her child, making me watch the three of you act sweet right in front of me like I’m a fool.”
“I didn’t mean to lie to you!”
Ethan rushed over and knelt with a heavy thud, slapping himself repeatedly.
“Hannah, I can explain. Don’t be upset, it’s bad for the baby.”
“I just drank too much. That day, you went to the hospital, and she came in. I thought, I thought…”
I let out a bitter laugh.