Her hand trembled slightly as Isabella hesitated, then finally pressed the answer button.

“Hello…” Her voice came out soft, strained with the weight of her anxiety.

“Isabella, where are you?” Ethan’s tone was cold, sharp with barely restrained anger.

Gripping the phone tightly with both hands, she tried to steady her breathing. “I—I’m on my way home.”

“Turn around and come back immediately. We’re going to the hospital.” His words were a command, leaving no room for argument.

The hospital?

A cold dread washed over her—she couldn’t go.

But something in his voice held a trace of urgency, sparking a fragile flicker of hope inside her.

Heart racing, she dared to ask, her voice barely a whisper, “Are you… concerned about me?”

Before he could respond, another voice cut through, sweet and intimate.

“Our friends are throwing me a party tonight, Ethan. I’d love for you to join me.”

Sophia’s voice was like honey, but her words landed like a blow, crushing Isabella’s fragile hope.

Pain tightened around her heart, stealing her breath.

How foolish she had been.

A bitter laugh escaped her as the truth dawned. Ethan wasn’t worried about her—he was worried she might be pregnant. A problem for him and Sophia.

Unable to listen any longer, she ended the call abruptly.

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling the sobs that threatened to break free.

The driver caught a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror and sighed softly. He stayed silent, pressing the accelerator with deliberate heaviness.

Isabella leaned against the cool window, watching the world blur past. A deep, throbbing ache filled her chest, her heart squeezed by the harsh reality.

She had once believed that two years of marriage would build at least some sincerity, even without love.

But now, faced with the truth, she saw how naive she had been.

Ethan had only ever felt disdain, masked by indifference, while she—foolishly, hopelessly—had clung to a thread of hope.

Self-pity washed over her as she let the tears fall, mourning the love she had imagined.

Meanwhile, Ethan stood firm as he addressed Sophia’s request. “No, I have plans tonight,” he stated flatly, his voice detached.

Sophia’s smile faltered slightly, but she nodded with feigned understanding. “I see. Alright then.”

She turned to leave, her fingers gripping her purse delicately. Ethan’s gaze followed her, shadowed with unspoken turmoil.

After she was gone, he reached for his phone, intending to ask Isabella what she had started to say earlier.