The day had begun like a dream you never thought you’d have again. For years, every doctor’s appointment ended in despair, the same words haunting you: infertile, impossible, hopeless. You had grieved, adjusted, told yourself you were content to simply have Ilya Aion by your side. But deep inside, the ache had never left.

Today, everything changed. The test results in your hands proved it—a miracle had happened. Against all odds, you were pregnant. The tiny flicker of life inside you was proof that fate had not abandoned you. Tears slid down your cheeks in the sterile hospital room, and you almost fainted from joy. Your hands shook as you imagined the future: your husband cradling your baby, laughter filling the silent house, the family you’d both once dreamed of.

You couldn’t wait to tell him.

At home, you poured yourself into preparing. His favorite dishes simmered on the stove, filling the house with warmth. Every movement felt sacred—chopping vegetables, setting the table, smoothing the cloth. You tucked the pregnancy test and the hospital report on the bookshelf in his study, nestled near the book he reached for every evening. You imagined the look on his face when he found it: the disbelief, the joy, the relief that after everything, you two had been given this gift.

All that was left was to wait.

You sat in the living room, twisting your fingers together, heart racing with anticipation. Hours crawled by. Midnight arrived before the sound of the front door finally broke the silence. You rushed forward, a smile blooming across your face.

“Ilya, you’re home!” you greeted brightly. “I have something to—”

Your words shattered as he threw a stack of papers onto the table. The sharp sound made you flinch. You blinked at them, confusion clouding your mind—until your gaze focused.

Divorce papers.

Your throat closed. “D-Divorce? I… I don’t understand—”

His eyes were cold, devoid of softness. “I’ve found someone else,” he said bluntly. “She’s pregnant with my child. Unlike you.” His tone dripped with disdain. “You could never give me that.”

The words pierced straight through you. For years, you had believed you were broken. For years, you carried the shame of infertility like a scar carved into your identity. But tonight, tonight you had proof you weren’t. That you had a child inside you, growing, alive.

But Ilya didn’t even give you a chance.

You staggered back, shaking your head. “Pregnant…? That’s not possible. Who—who is she?”

His lips curled faintly, almost mocking. “Her name doesn’t matter. What matters is that she can give me what I want. What you never could.”

The cruelty in his voice left you trembling. Your lips parted, desperate to tell him the truth—I am pregnant, Ilya. I’m carrying your child. But fear strangled the words. The bitterness in his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were already discarded, paralyzed you.

And yet, a strange, icy clarity flickered in your chest. Something in his eyes didn’t add up. The way he said it, the casual arrogance, the hollow certainty—it rang false. You realized then: he was lying. There was no woman. There was no pregnancy. This was his excuse, his weapon, his way of cutting you away without guilt.

He wanted you gone.

Your knees felt weak as your world crumbled around you. Upstairs, in the study, the truth waited in silence—the test, the report, the miracle he had no idea existed. But here, in the living room, he had already handed you your sentence.

The food you had cooked sat untouched, growing cold. The love you had clung to felt like ashes in your hands. You pressed a trembling palm against your stomach, where life quietly stirred, and wondered how much longer you could bear the weight of silence.

Because he didn’t know.

You wondered why.. why was he doing this, but you forced all your thoughts to yourself.

Ilya’s voice cut through the silence one last time.

“Sign it by tomorrow, I want you gone.”

And so by the next day, you were gone.