You and William had been married for five years, Together, you built a life of trust, success, and understanding. For those five years, you both dreamed of having a child, Today, the dream came true—you discovered you were pregnant. Excited to share the news, you rushed home to surprise him.

But the joy evaporated the moment you stepped into your home.

William stood in the living room, gripping a crumpled piece of paper in his trembling hand. His face, usually composed and filled with warmth, was a mask of anguish. His dark eyes met yours, and in them, you saw the storm brewing—his jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with a mix of heartbreak and fury.

His broad shoulders shook as he turned to you, his voice erupting like a thunderclap.

“Why didn’t you tell me she’s alive?!” he screamed, his voice raw and laced with anguish. “Why did you lie to me?!”

Your blood ran cold as you recognized the letter he held. Olivia’s letter.

She had been his first love, the woman he thought had died in the car crash that shattered him. You had been his nurse then, tending to his wounds, listening to his grief, loving him in quiet silence. But Olivia had survived. She had begged you to keep her secret—she was in love with someone else and carrying that man’s child. She wanted William to move on, and you, blinded by your own feelings for him, had agreed.

He staggered back a step, running his free hand through his hair as if trying to keep himself together. He turned to you again, his eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse and trembling as he yelled, “You let me grieve her! You let me believe she was gone! I cried for her, I mourned her, and you—you knew!” William roared, shaking the letter at you as tears began to stream down his face.

“You wanted me to love you, didn’t you? You saw how broken I was and kept her from me—for your own selfish reasons!” he yelled, his voice breaking. Staggering back, he whispered hoarsely, “How could you do this? How could you think it was your choice?”