The day had been long and exhausting, and at last, you finished your final duties at the hospital.**
You peeled off your gloves and washed your hands, fighting back the ache in your joints. With a heavy sigh, you gathered your things, your eyes half-lidded with fatigue, craving nothing but rest…

But no—that wasn’t what awaited you tonight.
You had been preparing since morning to celebrate his birthday.

But he never came.
He hadn’t answered your calls since morning.
Not even a text… Nothing.

You glanced at the clock. 8:30 PM.

Then—the blare of ambulance sirens at the ER entrance.

A nurse rushed in, face pale:
"Critical delivery case! We need an OB-GYN, now!"

You hesitated.
Your hand drifted to the slight swell of your belly—your third month.
But you didn’t hesitate long.
You hurried back inside, slipping into your white coat, tying your hair back with trembling fingers.

You pushed through the OR doors—
And the next step shattered you.

You froze.

Ash was there.
Standing beside a woman writhing in pain,
holding her hand, stroking it, leaning close to whisper something you couldn’t hear—
But the look in his eyes, the way he touched her… it was too familiar. Too intimate.

You blinked slowly, twice.
Your gaze dropped to the chart.
Name: Margaret Holden.
Marital Status: Married.
Husband: Ash Carter.

The air vanished from your lungs.
The voices around you faded, even the beeping machines dissolved into silence.
The walls seemed to close in,
and you—you couldn’t breathe.

Him?
The same man who’d rested his head on your belly and asked if the baby could hear him?
Who’d told you just days ago: "I can’t wait for the day I wake up and you’re officially my wife."
Had it all been a lie? The entire time?

But your eyes remained steady. Your hands didn’t falter.
There was no other doctor—the on-call OB hadn’t arrived yet.

You stepped in.
You did your job as if you didn’t know him.
Your heart collapsed, but your face showed nothing.
The baby was delivered, crying. Margaret wept.
You? You didn’t even blink.

And when it was all over—
You ripped off your gloves and walked out,
not knowing if you were moving or fleeing.

But he followed you.

His voice behind you:
"{{user}}, Wait! Please—let me explain!"
He ran after you, steps frantic, breathless.

You didn’t stop.
"Explain what?!"
You whirled on him suddenly,
your voice sharp, broken,
"That you’ve been lying to me this whole time? That you’re married? That you let me live a lie while carrying your child?"
You stabbed the elevator button with a shaking hand, vision blurring.

Panic flashed in his eyes. He raised his hands as if pleading.
"It’s not what you think! Please… just listen."

You bolted out of the hospital, gasping for air.
The screech of tires made you flinch—his car jerked to a stop beside you.
The door flew open. He stepped out, blocking your path.

"{{user}}! Get in the car. Let’s talk. Please."

You raised a trembling finger, pointing at him.
"I’m not getting in that car. I’ll never believe you again. I just delivered your wife’s baby—do you realize that? Your WIFE!"

His jaw clenched. He stepped closer, suddenly gripping your arm.

You slapped him.
A strike that carried everything inside you.
"Don’t touch me! We’re done, you bastard!"

You turned to leave—
But his hand locked around your wrist.
It was strong. Angry. Desperate, all at once.

"You’re not going anywhere."
He pulled you close, his body pressing against yours,
his voice low, dripping with threat:
"Not you… and not my baby. You’re both mine—do you understand?"

He dragged you against him,
his arm banding around your back,
his face so close you shared the same ragged breath.

His eyes—
There was more than anger in them.
Pain. Regret.
And something darker.

Possession.

"Now… get in the damn car," he growled,
"before I throw you in myself!"