My husband is often praised by our friends as the perfect husband. Everyone says he adores me, cherishing me above all else. That was until I went for my pregnancy check-up. My cousin called him with a farewell message before she took her own life. Without hesitation, he abandoned me, six months pregnant, and rushed off in a panic. My mother hoped I would be generous and allow my husband to accompany my depressed cousin. My brother reprimanded me, saying, "Sylvia pleaded for you to stay in this family; whatever she wants, you should give it to her!" I found it absurd. I am your family, after all. She's just an intruder taking what isn't hers. But when I finally decided to give up on all of you, why did you regret it? At the city hospital, I screamed hysterically at him: "Louis, if you leave today, we're done!" Louis hesitated for a moment, then rushed back to embrace me, planting a kiss on my forehead. Instinctively, I grabbed his hand, unwilling to let go. He gently pushed my hand aside and whispered in my ear, "Honey, don't give it a second thought. I'm just going to see her; I'll be right back." Then he turned and ran off, leaving me alone, tears streaming down my face. It's just sickening. He calls me "sweetheart" yet rushes off to meet another woman without a second thought. Louis, we're truly finished. I will never forgive you. Louis's mother came over, grasped my hand, and pleaded with me, "Hugh, could you be a bit more generous? Your sister is severely depressed; let Louis accompany her. I'm begging you!" I felt as if a knife had been twisted in my heart. My mother wants me to be generous, allowing my husband to accompany another woman. Before I could recover, my brother Asher burst in from outside. His first words were to scold me: "Zayne, can't you be more generous? Louis is just going to keep Sylvia company. What's your problem?" "Besides, Sylvia was the one who pleaded for you to stay in this family. Whatever she wants, you should give it to her!" I stumbled back, glancing at my mother, who avoided eye contact with me. After reprimanding me, they hurriedly left. My phone chimed with a WeChat notification. I opened it to find a message from Sonya: "Zayne, how does it feel to be abandoned again?" "You shouldn't have come back to this family; that backwater town is your true home." "I've said it before, this family can only have me. Everything here belongs to me, including Louis. Whenever I need them, they'll always choose me over you." "If I were you, feeling so defeated, I don't know how I'd go on." Her malicious texts left me numb. From childhood to adulthood, I've never won against Sonya. Since returning home, Sonya has sent multiple messages like this to provoke me. I once showed my parents the vicious messages she sent, hoping they would see her true colors. But they looked at me with disappointment. "Zayne, don't use such malicious methods on Sylvia. You really disappoint us." Later, I learned Sonya had already prepared for this. She told my parents that I had recently developed a habit of editing photos to spread rumors about classmates, hoping they would advise me. Turns out, trust can be unconditional, but not for me. When did the real nightmare begin? When we were little, our family went on a trip, and the tour bus got into an accident. My mother instinctively protected my brother, while my father held onto Sonya. They comforted their treasures, oblivious to me being muffled and kidnapped by traffickers. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled desperately, unable to match the strength of an adult. In my heart, I cried out: Mom, Dad, please! Just look back! Your daughter is being stolen from you! Please, just look at me! Before I fainted from the drug, I never saw them turn back even once.

After returning home and seeing the empty room, I knew Louis had gone to the hospital to take care of Sonya. I pushed open the door to the nursery and stood there, lost in thought, gazing at the pink decor. Inside, there was a pastel pink crib and a collection of toys in soft pink hues—a pink rattle, a pink strawberry plush toy. The closet was filled with tiny pink dresses for every age from newborn to three years old. When I first found out I was pregnant, I was a bit stunned, not yet ready for motherhood. But Louis was over the moon with excitement. One night, I got up to use the bathroom and found he wasn't in bed. I walked to the study and saw him sitting in front of the computer. The glow from the screen softened his handsome features. He was searching "how to care for a pregnant woman" and had filled an entire page with notes. It was then I realized I was going to be a mother. Initially, all my anticipation for the child came from Louis. Because I was carrying the child of the one I loved, I naturally shared that love with our child. As my belly started to show, my affection for our child only grew stronger. Louis became enthusiastic about shopping for baby items at every mall, but he insisted on buying things for a baby girl. I teased him, "How do you know it's a girl? What if it's a boy?" He gave a smug smile, pressing his face against my growing belly, his eyes sparkled with joy. "You don't understand. It's like a father-daughter intuition. I have a feeling you're carrying a beautiful, sweet girl." Suddenly, the sound of footsteps brought me back to reality. I turned to see Louis returning home. He looked tired, but he came over to help me to the sofa. "Honey, don't stand for so long when you're pregnant. Your legs will swell." When I didn't respond, he added, "Honey, today was unexpected.The situation was urgent over there. Please don't be upset, okay? It's my fault. I shouldn't have left you alone at the hospital. It won't happen again." His eyes were so sincere, as if he really meant it. But this wasn't the first time he'd said that. Whenever Sonya had an "emergency, " he always chose her first. He was about to massage my calves when I caught a whiff of a sweet, cloying perfume. It was Sonya's favorite rose scent. I felt a wave of nausea and couldn't help but throw up. Louis looked panicked and brought me a trash can. "What's wrong? Is the morning sickness starting again?" After composing myself, I spoke wearily, "It's not morning sickness; it's nausea." "What did you say?" He didn't hear me. "It's not morning sickness. It's the perfume on you that makes me nauseous." He looked hurt. "Honey, I... " I interrupted him, "Let's get a divorce." He was stunned, then suddenly leaned over to hug me tightly, his voice trembling. "Honey, you can't just say the word 'divorce' lightly. It hurts. We have a baby now. How can we divorce?We're meant to grow old together, side by side." I pushed him away, staring into his eyes. "Louis, didn't I say today that if you left, we were done? Didn't you hear me?" He was flustered. "It's not what you think... " I pushed him away, not wanting to hear his explanation. Ever since Sonya came back, he never chose me over her. I walked into the bedroom and locked the door, ignoring Louis's knocking. Tears fell silently down my cheeks. The baby inside me seemed to sense my emotions and started to become restless. I gently rubbed my belly to soothe the baby. "I'm sorry, little one. It's my fault that you'll be born without a father. But I don't want you to be like me, repeatedly abandoned by your father, watching him run towards someone else."

At night, the haunting memories of those years returned in my dreams, leaving me drenched in cold sweat. I woke up, tears streaming down my face as I recalled the nightmare that haunted me like a living hell. I was sold by traffickers to a remote village, bought by an old man to be a young girl forced into servitude and marriage for their mentally challenged son. From that day on, I had to rise before dawn to work—washing heaps of dirty clothes, feeding pigs, laboring in the fields, and feeding the son. They even bought a heavy iron chain to lock me to him. After finishing my chores, I had to follow him around, taking the brunt of bullying from children our age. If he had so much as a scratch, they would beat me twice as hard. Every night, I curled up under his bed to sleep. Half a year passed like this, and a semblance of affection grew between us as we ate and slept together. I tricked him into unlocking the chain, hoping to escape, but I was caught at the village entrance and dragged back. They beat me so savagely that two bamboo sticks broke, leaving me drenched in my own blood. My leg was fractured. If it weren't for their need to keep me capable of caring for him, they wouldn't have bothered to treat my leg. As punishment for trying to escape, I was chained in the pigsty and starved for three days. I was so hungry that I felt dizzy, my eyes filled with desperation as I stared at the pig feed. But chained in the far corner of the sty, I couldn't even reach it. Three days later, the son's brother brought me a bowl of sour, moldy rice, covered in a green fuzz, sticky and stringy. It was so rancid that my starved stomach couldn't bear the smell. I wanted to vomit, but he forced my face into the bowl, sneering, "If you don't want to eat this, then starve for another three days!" I refused to taste the bitterness of life slipping away again—I wanted to survive, even without dignity. Holding my breath, I swallowed the rotten rice bite by bite. He ran off gleefully, "Haha, I won the bet! The idiot's wife can even eat what even the pigs wouldn't touch!" After he left, I vomited all the rice. From then on, I suffered from severe stomach issues. When I met Louis, he learned about my condition and began waking early each day to make a pot of porridge for my stomach, delivering it to my door. My friends praised me for finding such an exceptional boyfriend, devoted to me. But I truly had no idea he had ties to Sonya, or I wouldn't have been with him. I had already endured the nightmare of losing my parents and brother to her, unwilling to let anyone around me be involved with Sonya. Five months into my pregnancy, Sonya returned from abroad, and only then did I discover they were each other's first love. On the day Sonya returned, I saw Louis visibly shaken, smoking on the balcony all night. He had quit smoking for months for the sake of our unborn child. Perhaps I should have realized then—against Sonya, I would lose everything I hold dear. The next morning, I rose to find Louis, who hadn't slept all night, busy in the kitchen. Upon seeing me, he eagerly served me a bowl of porridge. "Sweetheart, your stomach isn't well. Drink up the porridge I made for you." My heart warmed for a moment, but then I noticed the thermal lunchbox he held, and my gaze turned cold. His expression faltered briefly as he tried to hide the lunchbox behind him. "Sweetheart, don't misunderstand. Mom asked me to make porridge for Sonya since she has no appetite." I gave a bitter smile, "Louis, when you were making porridge, were you caring for your pregnant wife or worrying about your depressed, suicidal ex-girlfriend?"