“Do you love me?” I pulled my hand free, staring straight into his eyes, searching for the slightest flicker.
He paused, then smiled, reaching for my hand again—though it carried no warmth.
“Silly girl, of course I do. If I don’t love you, who else would I love?”
“Then…” I withdrew my hand once more, my gaze colder still.
“Do you love our child? Even if she’s a girl?”
Daniel’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, a flash of unease in his eyes. He hadn’t expected me to ask that.
But he recovered quickly, his tone firm. “Of course I do. Boy or girl, our baby is our treasure. I even said on social media that she’s my little princess.”
Yes—little princess. A princess in name only, someone he could sacrifice at any time.
I didn’t press him further. I lowered my head and pushed at the rice in my bowl. It tasted like sand—dry and flavorless.
Through Daniel’s “devoted husband” performance at dinner, I chewed on nothing but cold hatred.
That night, I lay in bed with my back to Daniel, my body stiff as stone.
He curled around me from behind, his hand slipping into my pajamas with practiced familiarity, settling over my flat belly.