Chapter 2

The labor process felt like a trip through hell.

Due to excessive amniotic fluid loss and extreme emotional fluctuations, my cervix dilated agonizingly slowly.

The delivery room was filled with heartbreaking screams. The woman on the next bed cursed her husband in pain, and he was wiping sweat, forcing a smile, holding a Red Bull, ready to serve her.

Only I lay there, all alone.

The midwife looked at me with a hint of pity and asked softly, "Do you want to try contacting the baby's father again? In situations like this, having family present helps a lot."

I stared at the glaring fluorescent light on the ceiling and shook my head.

He wouldn't answer.

Just before I entered the delivery room, I'd seen Vanessa's second Instagram update.

"Leo finally fell asleep. Thank you, best godfather, for staying up all night. With you, we always have someone to lean on."

In the photo, Ethan was asleep by the bedside, his hand tightly holding the boy named Leo.

Heartwarming, touching, a picture of fatherly love.

And my child was fighting for her life.

In that moment, the last shred of my love for Ethan, along with the pain in my body, shattered into dust.

"Push! I see the head!" the doctor shouted sharply.

I bit down hard on the towel in my mouth, turning all my hatred into strength.

Ten hours.

After ten grueling hours of torment, with a loud cry, my daughter was born.

The nurse held the wrinkled baby for me to see. "It's a beautiful little princess, six pounds, four ounces."

I weakly glanced at her, tears silently streaming down my face.

Back in the hospital room, the anesthetic wore off, and the wound burned.

My phone vibrated.

It was a message from Ethan: "Are you awake? I just woke up. Leo was a handful last night. You said your stomach hurt yesterday? Try to relax, don't always overreact. I'll bring you breakfast later."

Every line was pure perfunctory nonsense.

He didn't even consider that my desperate call for help last night was real.

I didn't reply, tossing my phone aside.

It wasn't until noon that the hospital room door was suddenly pushed open.

Ethan rushed in, looking disheveled, carrying a bag of cold sandwiches. When he saw me in a hospital gown, lying in bed, with a baby sleeping in the bassinet beside me, he froze.

His expression went from impatience to shock, then to panic.

"Chloe... you, you really gave birth?"

He rushed to the bedside, trying to take my hand, but I coldly pulled away.

"Don't touch me." My voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping a table.

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Ethan's face, quickly replaced by angry self-justification. "Why didn't you call me? Giving birth is such a big deal, and you just came to the hospital by yourself without a word? Do you know how worried I was?"

I laughed, a bitter sound that pulled at my wound, making me gasp in pain.

"Ethan, did a dog eat your memory? At two in the morning, I called you and told you my water broke. You told me to stop acting, and you hung up on me."

Ethan froze, seemingly recalling last night's events.

A moment later, his eyes darted away, and his tone softened. "I thought... I thought you were just jealous of Vanessa, deliberately trying to trick me. You know, after hearing the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf too many times, who would've thought this time it was real..."

"So in your mind, I'm someone who would joke about our child's life just to create drama?" I looked at him calmly, my eyes hollow.

Ethan looked a little guilty, placing the sandwiches on the table. "All right, I was wrong, I apologize, okay? Vanessa's situation was an emergency too, she's a woman..."

"Is she more important, or is our unborn child more important?"

Ethan frowned, lowering his voice. "Chloe, can you stop being so aggressive? The baby was born safely, wasn't she? Vanessa's kid was sick, it was an emergency! We're all friends. What's wrong with helping each other? Can't you be a little more open-minded?"

Friends. Helping each other.

I looked at his self-righteous face, and suddenly the man I'd shared a bed with for three years seemed terrifyingly unfamiliar.

Just then, his phone rang.

A custom ringtone—it was Vanessa.

Ethan instinctively glanced at me, then took his phone into the hallway to answer.

Through the glass panel of the door, I saw his expression soften, even showing a hint of tenderness, as he nodded repeatedly into the phone.

Five minutes later, he pushed the door open, looking troubled.

"Chloe, um... Vanessa said she left in a hurry and forgot her keys, and Leo needs a follow-up checkup at the hospital. I need to take her a spare set of keys. Anyway, you're at the hospital with nurses taking care of you, and your parents will be here this afternoon. I'll be back soon."

With that, he turned and left without waiting for my reply.

From beginning to end, he didn't even glance down at his newborn daughter sleeping in the bassinet.