Chapter 5

Ashley's hospital was celebrating its anniversary.

She insisted I accompany her.

"Let everyone see how wonderful my husband is."

She gently caressed her slightly rounded abdomen, her face showing a fragile hope.

I looked at the weariness in her eyes and her forced smile, and eventually nodded.

I chose a suitable suit, trying my best to hide the exhaustion of the past few days.

The hall was filled with glamorous guests, their conversations a soft hum.

Her colleagues came to toast, offering congratulations and blessings.

Ashley smiled and responded, her hand gently resting on the back of my chair, her other hand occasionally protecting her stomach.

This carefully maintained calm only lasted until Lucas appeared.

He wore a stark white suit, his face pale and gaunt, like a ghost, his gaze piercing through the crowd, locking onto Ashley.

Then, in full view of everyone, he rushed over and grabbed Ashley's arm.

Tears streamed down his face, his voice quiet but every word clear, laced with a broken tremor:

"Dr. Ashley! You said I was the most understood person you'd ever met! Why are you abandoning me now? Is it because you have a family, a child, so I've become an extra burden? Is it because Mr. Jackson... can't tolerate me?"

The entire room fell silent.

All eyes, like spotlights, swiveled to me, a mix of shock, scrutiny, and unspoken pity.

Ashley was completely frozen.

The next second, she even instinctively switched into professional mode, saying in a gentle, soothing voice:

"Lucas, don't do this, calm down, this isn't appropriate, let's just..."

I stood there, stripped bare of all pretense, my dignity trampled into the dust by the two of them.

Finally, the hospital director's face was dark with anger, and he motioned for security to escort Lucas away.

He struggled, turning back to stare fixedly at Ashley, and shrieked desperately:

"Ashley! I'll really die without you! You promised you wouldn't give up on me!"

The drive home was a deathly silence.

Only the low hum of the engine, and the pounding of my own blood rushing to my head.

Ashley's face was ashen, her hand tightly covering her stomach, her lips trembling, trying to say something, but no sound came out.

Suddenly, she let out a stifled groan, her body curling up.

"Ashley?" My heart tightened sharply.

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, her voice trembling: "My stomach... it hurts a little..."

I looked down and saw a small, stark patch of bright red visibly spreading on her light-colored skirt.

"To the hospital!"

In the emergency room, the doctor's expression was grave after the examination.

"We must admit her immediately for bed rest to prevent miscarriage! The pregnant woman's emotions absolutely cannot be stimulated any further!"

Ashley was wheeled into the ward, lying on the stark white bed, her face utterly bloodless.

Standing by the bed, looking at her tightly closed eyes and the hand protecting her stomach, my heart felt utterly cold.

What did I, and this family, even mean to her?