“You’re still pregnant. Be careful—you might miscarry. Be a good girl and come home with me first. Things aren’t what you think.”
I turned to face him, my voice was cold. “Home? I don’t have a home anymore.”
He sighed, his face softening. “You’re still upset that I left you, aren’t you? Listen, after dropping Paula off, I went back to look for you, but you were already gone.”
A chill crept over me, freezing me to my core.
At that very moment, I was on an operating table. My child was already gone.
Ian glanced at me and suddenly laughed. “You lied about being in the hospital. Look at your belly—it’s fine.”
I forced a bitter smile, one filled with sorrow. He wasn’t blind. He simply didn’t care.
It didn’t matter if I had dressed up in new clothes or changed my hairstyle in the past, nor did it matter if I looked haggard and ghostly now.
To him, none of it ever mattered enough.
“Stop making a fuss. Let’s go home. I’ll make it up to you—and to the baby.”
His voice softened, carrying the same sincerity he’d once had when we were in love.
I stayed silent, hesitating. Deep down, I knew I needed someone to care for me right now.
My resolve wavered, and I finally nodded.
“Fine. I’ll go back with you.”