“Congratulations, you’re one month pregnant. Everything looks fine.”

Mia Bowen held the results of her pregnancy test as she returned to her marital home, feeling like she was dreaming. Was she actually pregnant?

She mustered the courage to text her husband, Timothy Barrett. “Will you be coming home for dinner tonight?”

It felt like forever as she waited for a reply. He’d never liked it when people disturbed him at work, and she was worried that her message would go unanswered as it had in the past.

In the next second, her phone lit up. Timothy replied curtly, “Yeah. I have something to tell you.”

After getting an answer, Mia hurried to get the groceries for that night’s dinner. She put the results of the pregnancy test on the table, then flipped it over, feeling that she was being too obvious.

In the evening, a black limousine drove into the courtyard. Timothy got out with his suit jacket casually flung over one arm. He had a tall figure and striking features.

“Timothy, you’re back.” Mia jogged over to him, reaching out to take his suit jacket. But Timothy handed her some papers instead. A trace of surprise flashed in her eyes.

You can bring up any

agreement” written on it. The bright whiteness of the paper

traces of fatigue showing on his face. He looked down at Mia, taking in the baby fat around her

grandmother liked her.

month back, he wouldn’t even have noticed that they’d been married

waste of Mia’s time and youth. It was better for them to

her belly and asked shakily, “If—and this is only hypothetical—I were to tell you that I’m pregnant, would you still go ahead with the

belly. He frowned. “Didn’t I tell you to take the morning-after pill after that

month ago was an accident—the one and only accident that had happened over the

her hand had been burned. She quickly moved it away, but Timothy grabbed her by the wrist with a complicated gaze.

asked you a question. If I were pregnant, would you want

“No.”

were caught in a loveless

out as he

he walked away. Then, she tilted her head back to force the tears back. Timothy’s words where like knives

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