Breaking Free Before It's Too Late

The day before our wedding, my husband gives me a sapphire ring.

I place a hand on my slightly bulging belly. As I lie on the operating table, I call him and tell him I want to call the wedding off.

Shortly after, his secretary calls me tearfully. "I was the one who was impudent enough to select the ring, ma'am. Please don't blame Mr. Nolan for this. It's all my fault."

Archer Nolan holds her in his arms and coaxes her gently for a long time. He only says one thing to me. "You're already carrying my child. Can you really bear to leave me?"

"Mrs. Nolan, are you sure? The baby is already four months old. Do you really not want it anymore?"

"No," I answered determinedly.

I could still hear that wretched woman's voice and another familiar male voice comforting her over and over again on the other end of the phone. I hung up and closed my eyes calmly.

The surgery was a long one. When I finally opened my eyes again, I saw that the fetus taken out of me was now laid out on a metal tray. Its form had already taken shape.

I hurriedly closed my eyes again. However, I could feel the tingle in my nose, reminding me that I couldn't deny that this was now my reality.

I had killed my own child because of a man who hadn't been worth any of my time or effort.

My phone vibrated next to me. It was a text message from Archer Nolan.

"Are you done sulking? You're already so old, yet you keep acting like a spoiled child! Don't keep thinking that the world revolves around you. You'd better know your place and stay there, Selene!"

It was just a few sentences, and yet, since they came from Archer, I knew exactly where I now stood in his heart.

Jacklyn Willow was quite pretty. Most importantly, she was still very young. She graduated from an Ivy Standard college and came from a wealthy family background.

Meanwhile, my age was starting to catch up to me. Although I'd done everything I could to help Archer succeed with his company, he still never had a good word for me and often made fun of me.

I blocked all their contact numbers on my phone.

Maybe this way, he'd stop saying that I thought too much about myself. Whether I died or survived would have nothing to do with them anymore.

I sent the tiny fetus remains to be cremated.

This was probably the first time the crematorium had ever received such a request. They looked at me with curious, suspicious eyes.

The raging fire reflected on my face. The flames never came close to me, but somehow, I felt a stabbing pain on my face. The pain extended all the way down to my heart.

When the ashes were finally taken out and put into an urn, the last shaky walls in my heart