Chapter 4

Lucas's condition unfolded like a meticulously orchestrated play.

One scene after another, constantly pushing my limits of endurance.

Ashley's phone became an alarm bell that only rang for him.

And each ring, it seemed, drained her physically.

Late at night, Lucas suffered drug side effects, struggling to breathe.

Ashley answered the phone, soothing him in a low voice for nearly an hour.

After hanging up, her face was pale, and a dull ache pulsed in her lower abdomen.

I was terrified and wanted to call an ambulance, but she forced a smile and said she just needed rest, stubbornly refusing to go to the hospital.

In the early hours, Lucas experienced paranoid delusions and panic attacks.

Ashley grabbed her car keys, ready to leave, but I blocked the doorway.

"Have you forgotten the doctor said you need bed rest? You can't be stressing yourself out in your current condition!"

She looked at me, her eyes full of struggle.

"Jackson, he's a high-risk patient... I can't just stand by and do nothing. Just this once, I'll be back soon."

When she returned, her face was drawn with exhaustion, and there were faint red stains on her pants.

She weakly explained that she was just tired, telling me not to worry.

My doubts and unease were interpreted by her as a lack of empathy and a misunderstanding of her profession.

"Jackson, you used to be so kind, why can't you be understanding now? This is my responsibility."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with weariness and a hint of disappointment.

Because I was kind, I deserved to watch her repeatedly put herself and our child in danger for others.

Finally, she offered to accompany me to a long-awaited art exhibition as a form of compensation.

As soon as we reached the exhibition hall entrance, her phone rang again.

She glanced at it, hung up immediately, but her face instantly turned grim, and her hand instinctively covered her abdomen.

"Him again?" My heart sank further, my gaze fixed on her hand protecting her stomach.

"...Telemarketer," she said, her eyes darting away.

The phone kept vibrating, so insistent it made my heart race.

She finally gave in, walking to a corner to answer.

"Lucas! Calm down! Don't do anything foolish! ...Okay, wait there, I'm on my way!"

She returned, her face etched with anxiety, beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead.

"Jackson, the exhibition's off. He's on the edge of the rooftop... He said if I don't go, he'll jump!"

I looked at her pale face and the hand instinctively protecting her stomach, my voice so cold it felt foreign even to myself.

"So, our date, our baby, once again, less important than his little show? Ashley, just look at your own face!"

She painfully clutched at her hair, her body trembling slightly.

"Just this once! I swear it's the last time! To completely resolve this! Otherwise, if he really dies, I'll live with that shadow forever, and our baby won't be happy either!"

She turned and ran towards the parking lot, her steps a bit unsteady, but her back showed no hesitation.

I stood alone on the bustling street, surrounded by people coming and going.

A cold dread settled in my chest.

When she returned that night, her condition was even worse.

Abdominal pain intensified, and the bleeding was noticeably heavier.

Rushed to the emergency room, the doctor diagnosed "threatened miscarriage" and ordered bed rest.

On the hospital bed, she held my hand, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm so sorry, Jackson, I'm so sorry, baby... I never thought it would come to this."

My heart twisted in agony, but all I could say was, "Let's just focus on saving the baby for now."