Love's Labyrinth

Chapter 3: I only love you

With an umbrella in hand, I left the small house where I had lived for two years. In reality, I felt quite uncomfortable inside, and my request to live together with that woman was not a joke or an attempt to take advantage of her. At this moment, my mood was like that of a homeless child, losing the warmth but with no one knowing that I felt like crying a bit.

But one must learn to respect reality, right? When Old Li sold this house, my departure had become inevitable.

I found an ATM nearby, withdrew $1,000 from the card as agreed, and incidentally checked the user information. That excessively beautiful woman was named Betsy.

I liked her name. "Mi" represented satiety, and "Cai" represented colors. Life would undoubtedly be happy if it had both satiety and colors. However, I had neither. My life now only consisted of hunger and black and white. So, Betsy's appearance in my life seemed more like irony—a mockery of my utter lack, a dead end!

...

At the corner of the street, there was a hotel. I stayed there for the night. Amidst the raging wind and rain throughout the night, I drifted into a dazed sleep only in the morning.

Checking my phone, I found over a dozen missed calls, all from Isabella Hartfield. She was indeed quite persistent. Seeing that I didn't answer the calls, she sent me a message, saying: "If I had known, I would have given birth to the child inside me and used this so-called child to punish you for a lifetime."

I found it a bit amusing. She wasn't afraid of being an unwed mother, but did she think I feared being a supposed cheap dad? Her complaints didn't burden me psychologically.

After a quick wash, I reluctantly headed to the hospital. Perhaps it was the only remaining shred of kindness or maybe some sympathy between bed buddies—whatever the reason, I couldn't explain why I was doing it. Often, people don't understand themselves.

Arriving at the maternity hospital, I got out of the taxi and saw Isabella Hartfield waiting at the hospital gate with an umbrella.

She noticed me instantly, and her expression, devoid of a sense of security, finally eased a bit as she walked toward me.

I was filled with anger, but thinking about how she had lain on the operating table facing the cold scalpel in this hospital, I held back from exploding.

Isabella Hartfield, with a serious expression, clung to my arm and glanced at her belly, portraying an image of deep love for me that I seemed to neglect.

I shook her off, finally unable to contain myself. "Damn it!... Just be honest with me. Whose child is in your belly?"

"Yours, Adrian Sterling!"

"Do you believe I'll strangle you?" I glared at Isabella Hartfield.

"Beast, if you dare, go ahead. If you had strangled me yesterday, it would have been double tragedy today, and you'd be all over the news headlines, and everyone in the country would know about you, this beast!"

The call ended with a beep.

"Are you done? Two months ago, we slept together. How long have you been pregnant? Show me the pictures you took."

Ignoring my questions, Isabella Hartfield whispered, "Adrian Sterling, if I didn't have the operation yesterday and let the child call you father, you would be so fortunate!"

I suppressed the anger and pushed her aside, saying, "Stop playing around, okay?... You quickly go for the check-up. Once you step out of this hospital gate, consider me dead, and never bother me again!"

Isabella Hartfield lowered her head, and after a while, she said to me, "Forget about saying things like life or death; I won't bother you in the future!"

...

After the check-up, Isabella Hartfield was in the hospital room receiving an IV drip, and I was sitting by her side like a family member. However, I was unwilling to say a word, feeling somewhat stifled.

The doctor pulled me aside outside the room and said, "Young man, your girlfriend has a weak constitution and mild symptoms of anemia. After the abortion, the recovery must not be taken lightly; otherwise, it may leave latent problems. I'll prescribe some recuperative medicine and tonics for you. Go to the pharmacy on the second floor to get them."

I nodded without much thought, thinking that the $1,000 I swiped from Betsy's card yesterday should be enough to buy the medicine.

Holding the prescription, I went to the second floor, where the staff took a full five minutes to fill a plastic bag with medicine and tonics. Then they threw a sentence at me: "A total of $3,016. Do you want to pay by card or cash?"

I was taken aback and immediately cursed, "What kind of elixir costs over three thousand? Do you think I'm loaded, trying to scam me for money!"

Unfazed by my outburst, the staff member, looking at a man who had just bought $8,000 worth of medicine and tonics, said to me, "See that? He just bought $8,000 worth, and you don't even have money. Don't let your girlfriend get pregnant if you can't afford it!"

"You're enjoying the spectacle as a cashier; i***t!" I retorted at the man's departing figure, then remembered that I had just used Betsy's bank card to swipe for $3,016 of medicine and tonics when I had promised to only use $1,000. Now I owe $4,016. How was I going to repay so much?

Thinking of Betsy's excessively beautiful but expressionless face, I felt at a loss!

...