Chapter 1

I have PTSD.

Whenever I hear a sharp, crashing sound, my entire body shakes uncontrollably.

But Ethan always claimed he was an artist. He said smashing things was how he found his "inspiration."

In our three years of marriage, the porcelain in our house had been replaced over and over again.

Every time glass shattered, I could only cover my ears as hard as I could.

I once begged him to work in a soundproof studio.

But he only sneered, smashing a vase right at my feet.

"If you can't even stand this little noise, why did you marry me in the first place?"

I could only curl up in the corner, holding my head, praying to survive the panic attack.

Later, when I got pregnant, my anxiety skyrocketed. I begged him to stop smashing things.

Instead, he bought me a pair of noise-canceling headphones.

"Wear these and you won't hear anything. Stop being so dramatic."

I nodded, trying to convince myself he was right.

Until I was eight months pregnant, and I came home early from my prenatal checkup.

The front door was slightly ajar.

Ethan was standing barefoot among a sea of shattered glass, holding someone tightly in his arms.

The girl was crying softly. She was the college student he sponsored.

I stood at the door, watching them for a long time.

The girl had accidentally broken a glass and was sobbing in terror.

Ethan reached out, gently covering her ears.

"Don't be scared, sweetheart. It's just a cup. Out with the old, in with the new. I'll replace everything in this house with plastic cups so you never get startled again."

As it turned out, he didn't have an uncontrollable temper.

He just didn't think my terror was worth comforting.

……

I looked down at my round, heavy belly. Eight months.

To avoid disturbing his artistic creation, I wore those heavy noise-canceling headphones every single day.

Even when my ears became inflamed and swollen from the constant pressure, he never showed a shred of sympathy.

He would only sneer and smash a vase right at my feet.

He said he had to support the family, that he needed inspiration, and told me to stop being so high-maintenance.

As it turned out, he didn't have an uncontrollable temper.

He just didn't think my terror was worth comforting.

From the corner of her eye, Lily caught sight of me standing outside.

Like a startled little deer, she shrank deeper into Ethan's chest.

"Ethan... Chloe is standing outside."

"Did I disturb her by breaking the cup?"

Ethan gently patted her back to soothe her.

He glanced carelessly toward the door, his brow furrowing slightly.

"There’s no one there. The wind probably blew the door open."

"She isn't even back from her prenatal checkup yet. And even if she were, she's wearing her headphones. She can't hear a thing."

I didn't push the door open to confront them.

My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, rendering me completely mute.

I silently turned around and walked away.

The baby in my womb seemed to feel my grief, giving me a sharp kick.

Clutching my aching lower abdomen, I walked aimlessly down the street.

Suddenly, the sky opened up, and a torrential downpour began.

I didn't have an umbrella. Soaked and miserable, I had no choice but to seek shelter in a corner convenience store.

That was when Ethan's call came through.

"Where are you?"

The moment the call connected, his impatient voice blared through the receiver.

"Why aren't you back to cook after your checkup? Lily's stomach is upset today. She wants that homemade linguine you make."

I stared at the heavy rain outside, my voice flat.

"I'm caught in the rain."

A cold snort came from the other end.

"Chloe, are you playing hard to get again?"

"It's your own fault for not checking the weather forecast before leaving. Don't expect me to come pick you up."

"If you're not back in half an hour, don't bother coming back at all."

I didn't say another word. I hung up.

The rain showed no signs of stopping. I hailed a cab and drove straight to my lawyer's office.

"Mrs. Miller, you drafted this divorce agreement and left it with me a long time ago."

The lawyer handed me the document, his eyes filled with worry.

"Are you sure you want to sign it now? You're heavily pregnant, after all."

I took the pen and signed my name without a second thought.

"I'm sure."

I should have signed it long ago.

I had just been holding onto a foolish illusion, clinging to the man who once promised to protect me from the world.

Now, the dream was over.

By the time I got home, the rain had stopped.

I was drenched to the bone, my hair clinging to my cheeks like a drowned rat.

The rich aroma of food wafted from the kitchen.

Ethan was wearing an apron, personally cooking pasta for Lily.

He used to do that for me, too.

When we first got together, my appetite was terrible.

He would drive across the entire city just to buy those pastries I loved.

He would whip up different midnight snacks for me late at night.

Later, when he became a famous painter, his temper grew with his fame.

He said his hands were meant for painting, not for grease and smoke.

As it turned out, his warmth hadn't disappeared. It was just no longer meant for me.

Hearing the door open, Ethan didn't even bother to turn around.

"So you finally decided to show up. Go clean the dining table."

I didn't move. I walked straight toward the bedroom.

Lily walked out of the kitchen, carrying two bowls of steaming pasta.

Seeing me, she waved enthusiastically, as if she were the actual mistress of this house.

"Chloe, you're back!"

She walked up to me, holding the hot pasta.

"Ethan made this pasta specifically for me. Do you want to try some?"

I stared at her coldly.

"Move."

Instead of moving aside, Lily stepped closer, crowding into my space.

"Oh!"

She suddenly gasped. The bowl of scalding pasta tilted and fell straight toward my pregnant belly.