Chapter 3 You're Pregnant

Chapter 3

You're Pregnant

.Peter replied with a hint of regret, "We have a child together."

"So that's why you had Martha Janet approach Paul behind Mary's back, right?" The man asked excitedly, "Once Paul accepts Martha Janet as his mother, you can finally be with your first love and take the kid along!"

They egged him on, "You sly dog, you've really thought this through!"

"Even planned this far ahead!"

So...

Martha Janet's interactions with the child were all orchestrated by Peter?

No wonder...

When Peter sent the child to his mother's place, she would immediately pass him along to Martha Janet's home.

All to foster their bond.

No wonder...

Even the kindergarten teachers called Martha Janet "Paul's mom."

And here I was, the fool, still trying to convince myself to keep forgiving.

My entire body trembled uncontrollably. I desperately tried to calm myself, but it was futile.

Peter hadn't even had the chance to answer the question yet.

The phone rang abruptly.

He answered immediately, "Janet?"

"What? Paul slit his wrists?"

"Wait for me, I'm coming right now!"

The news struck me like a bolt of lightning.

At the school gate, faced with the choice between me and Martha Janet, he had chosen her...

Logically, shouldn't he have been happy after going home with her?

Then why would he suddenly do something so desperate?

I couldn't make sense of it.

The relentless blows had drained me of all strength. I leaned against the wall, struggling to stay upright, but my legs gave way, and I slid helplessly to the floor. "Paul..."

Peter burst into the office and froze when he saw me.

In front of his friends, I wanted to show some dignity, but the tears wouldn't stop-

His friends behind him stood dumbfounded.

They exchanged uneasy glances.

No one knew what to say.

Peter saw how utterly disheveled I was and gently scooped me into his arms. "Sweetheart, Paul will be fine. There's no need to worry so much," he murmured soothingly.

I buried my face in my hands, unwilling to let outsiders witness my further humiliation.

Without another word, Peter broke into a near-jog, rushing us toward the elevator and leaving his friends trailing far behind.

"Is that Mary?" one of them whispered.

"Damn, she's way hotter than I imagined-both her figure and her face."

"No wonder Peter refuses to divorce her."

"Honestly, if I had a wife that gorgeous who adored me unconditionally, I'd cherish her too."

"Lucky bastard..."

Their voices faded as Peter carefully settled me into the passenger seat. Too drained to resist, I sat limply while he leaned over to fasten my seatbelt.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, lingering beside me. His large hand brushed against my cheeks, attempting to wipe away the tears-but they kept falling, relentless as rain.

He opened his mouth, poised to explain.

"I don't want to talk right now," I said tersely. "Let's just get to the hospital first and see what's going on with Paul."

Equally concerned about Paul's condition, Peter swiftly closed the car door and started the engine, speeding toward the hospital. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel with his left hand, while his right hand tentatively reached toward mine-only for me to pull away.

Turning my face toward the window, I muttered, "Keep your eyes on the road."

Afraid I might misunderstand him, Peter blurted out, "Sweetheart, please just let me explain-"

I leaned back against the seat, my gaze dropping before I shut my eyes entirely. The hum of the engine filled the tense silence.

"I admit... the person I first loved wasn't you," he began, stealing glances at my reflection in the rearview mirror. His voice faltered when he saw my furrowed brows and the clear resistance in my posture.

"But after all these years together-raising a child, building a life-" he hurried to add.

My eyes snapped open at that. "And then Martha Janet came back," I interrupted, my voice cracking under the weight of unshed tears, "and you realized you never stopped loving her."

The words barely made it past the lump in my throat.

So this was the truth.

All those years of quiet devotion...

Every sacrifice, every unspoken effort-

They'd meant nothing at all.

But I still decided to lay it all out: "Even your reluctance to finalize the divorce was just because you were afraid Paul wouldn't want to stay with you."

"So you deliberately made time for Martha Janet and Paul to bond."

"Peter."

My voice broke with sobs: "Now Paul has accepted Martha Janet-she's the only mother he recognizes."

"And what about you?"

"When were you planning to bring up the divorce?"

Each sentence I uttered carried more weight than the last.

Peter seemed caught off guard by my anger, his tone flustered: "No, honey, please calm down!"

He didn't even dare to pause: "When Martha Janet first came back, I did spend some time with her."

"I thought..."

"That old feelings might rekindle, but they didn't."

The car pulled to a stop in front of the hospital.

I couldn't bear to listen any longer. I reached for the passenger door, ready to step out.

But Peter swiftly blocked my path: "The entire time I was with her, only one thought filled my mind-that I couldn't betray our marriage."

I tried to sidestep him.

Peter caught up with me again. "I could never betray you," he said.

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze.

With a resigned sigh, he chided, "Aren't you too old to storm off mid-conversation and sulk like this?"

Before I could react, he pinned me against the car, cupping my face in his hands as he leaned in for a forceful kiss.

But my mind was elsewhere-all I could think about was Paul and his bandaged wrist. Was he okay? The worry gnawed at me, leaving no room for affection.

I shoved against his shoulders with all my strength. "Let's go check on the kid first."

Peter blinked, as if snapping out of a daze. "Right."

---

Inside the hospital room, Paul sat motionless, head bowed in silence. His left arm was wrapped in thick layers of gauze, the stark white a cruel contrast to his usual rosy cheeks-now drained of color.

Just when I thought I'd steadied myself, the sight of him sent another sharp pang through my chest.

I strode over and gently took his wrist, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Why would you do something like this to yourself?"

That's when I noticed Martha Janet standing nearby.

This woman-the one trying to tear my family apart and turn my own son against me-made my blood boil with hatred.

Blinded by rage, I lashed out without restraint, "So this is how you take care of Paul after forcibly taking him away?"

Before Martha Janet could respond, Paul, lying weakly on the hospital bed, suddenly stirred with agitation.

"Don't you dare talk about Aunt Janet like that!" His voice trembled with defiance. "I cut my wrist because of you!"

"Because you refused to divorce Dad."

I stared at him, stunned.

Paul looked back at me with unsettling calm, as if his words weren't tearing me apart. "Mom, I know it hurts you when I hurt myself."

"But the more it hurts you, the more I'll do it." His lips moved with chilling detachment, as though unaware of the cruelty in his own words. "Until..."

"You agree to divorce Dad."

His words hit me like a sledgehammer to the skull.

The room spun, his face blurring in my vision as dizziness overwhelmed me.

My chest ached so fiercely I could barely breathe, gasping for air like a drowning woman.

How could he use my love for him as a weapon to wound me so mercilessly?

Before I could even ask for the answer, darkness suddenly engulfed my vision. My body went limp, and I collapsed uncontrollably...

"Darling!"

Through the haze, I heard Peter frantic voice.

"Doctor!"

...

When I finally came to, it was already the next morning.

Peter sat by my bedside, his face lit up with an irrepressible grin. "Darling, I've got great news," he blurted out eagerly.

The past few days had been nothing short of a relentless storm, each blow leaving me more dazed than the last.

Frankly, I couldn't fathom what good news could possibly remain. "Hmm?" I responded half-heartedly.

"You're pregnant!"