I looked at her—this woman I had loved for years—and felt something inside me break. Her familiar face now looked distant, almost foreign. “Clara,” I said quietly, “if you give birth to our child, I’ll agree to IVF for him. That’s my greatest compromise.”
But Clara only stood, her expression detached. She placed her ring on the coffee table and said, “I’m not as cold-blooded as you. Felix saved my life. He’s like a brother to me. I can’t let them die without a family line.”
Then, meeting my gaze with icy calm, she said, “I won’t keep the child. I’m informing you, not asking.”
My hands trembled as I finally let her go. “Clara,” I said, “let’s divorce.”
——
The room went silent. Clara froze at the doorway, turning back slowly, disbelief in her eyes. “What did you say? Divorce?”
Before I could respond, my father stormed over and slapped me hard. “Why can’t you talk things out properly? You want a divorce already? Are you even a man?”
Everyone rushed to hold him back, their voices blending into a blur. Clara frowned, her tone sharp with irritation.