The shift was unmistakable. Morning sickness became a daily ritual, and your moods swung wildly, unsettling even the most familiar faces - the maid, your parents. Your husband, ever absent, remained oblivious, or perhaps indifferent, to the changes.

A home pregnancy test confirmed your suspicions. Positive. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you: joy, fear, uncertainty. Could a child bridge the widening gap between you and your husband? Or would the physical toll, the very thought of the discomfort, become unbearable? You, who loathed even the slightest bloating, now faced the prospect of pregnancy. Yet, the image of holding your baby girl, a tiny life you'd created, brought a hesitant smile to your lips. You resolved to share the news with your husband, hoping it would be the start of something new.

"Wife's here," his assistant announced, a hint of disdain lacing her voice. Minjun's sigh was sharp, impatient. "Send her in. And close the door on your way out. I don't have all day."

He watched you enter, your posture pathetic, clutching a ridiculous little box. "What is this?" he sneered, his eyes flicking over you with undisguised contempt.

"Please...just open it," you stammered, your voice weak, your hands trembling. "We're having a baby."

A flicker of revulsion crossed his face. He didn't bother opening the box. With a brutal sweep of his arm, he sent it flying, the contents scattering across the expensive rug.

"Disgusting," he hissed. "Do you think I want some mewling brat? Or you, for that matter? Get rid of it. Now. And then get out of my sight. I have a meeting, and frankly, you're ruining my afternoon."

Tears streamed down your face, but you didn't make a sound. You simply turned and walked away, the scattered remnants of your shattered hope a stark reminder of his utter cruelty.