Chapter 5
786 Words
Lucien turned to face her. Under the light, his face looked somewhat pale, his eyes carrying a fatigue she had never seen before.
He said to Arthur, "Could you please ask everyone to step outside? I need to speak to my wife alone."
Arthur looked at them for a long moment, then left with his people, including the unwilling Cynthia.
The door closed.
Lucien walked up to Aurelia and stood very close to her.
He looked at her swollen eyes. After a long silence, he said in a low voice, almost a sigh:
"Aurelia, the hospital test results just came in."
Her heart sank sharply.
His next words dragged her into a storm:
"You're pregnant. Almost two months along."
Pregnant?
Aurelia was struck like a bolt of lightning. She instinctively covered her lower abdomen and swayed.
At that moment, the news felt nothing but absurd and terrifying.
"Now do you understand?" Lucien said softly, yet each word landed on her heart like a heavy hammer.
"You can't withstand public self-criticism, a Party warning, or a disciplinary record right now. Any emotional fluctuation could cause irreversible harm—to the baby, and to you."
He turned his head slightly, avoiding her tear-filled eyes, his tone turning hard.
"This isn't only about you or the child. You're still my wife. Any serious issue involving you will ultimately affect my work and the bigger picture. Cynthia's identity is special, and the organization takes it very seriously. I don't want your impulsive actions to create more trouble, disrupt order, or interfere with more important work."
So that was it.
He had taken on the heaviest punishment not out of trust, guilt, or even simple protection of the child.
But because she was pregnant—because she had become "fragile" and "troublesome."
She might not withstand the pressure and break down, and if she did, it would create even more "trouble" for him, his work, the "bigger picture," and the "important people" he needed to protect.
In his eyes, she and the child were first and foremost responsibilities to be managed—a potential risk—rather than a wife or his own flesh and blood.
Her heart felt hollowed out, then filled with shards of ice. Even the sharpness from the slap earlier disappeared without a trace.
Aurelia let out a low, dry laugh, tears streaming down her face:
"So you took the punishment for me because I'm this 'trouble' that might become even more 'trouble'? Because I might affect your future, disrupt your plans, and interfere with Cynthia, right? Lucien... this child to you—what is it? Just a burden you have to carry?"
Lucien's throat tightened violently.
Looking at her broken smile and uncontrollable tears, something in his chest clenched hard.
He wanted to refute it, wanted to explain, but no words came out that could offer comfort.
He had his mission, the things he had to protect, responsibilities he could not abandon, and a promise he had made to someone else.
Emotional impulse was a weakness he had to avoid in his line of work.
In the end, he shifted the topic stiffly. "Your job now is to rest and focus on the pregnancy. Don't think about anything else, and don't cause more trouble."
He turned to leave.
"Lucien!"
Aurelia called him back, her voice carrying her final trace of stubbornness.
"If I weren't pregnant, would you still have done this? Over these five years... even once, did you ever see me as your wife, instead of just a responsibility you had to fulfill?"
Lucien froze at the doorway.
Her pale, fragile reflection and tear-filled eyes were reflected in the glass.
He could not turn back. He could not answer.
Some answers, even he had not yet been able to define.
Some paths, once chosen, could no longer be swayed by personal emotion.
Silence spread through the room, sharper and more suffocating than any words.
After a long moment, Lucien opened the door and walked out.
His footsteps faded down the corridor until they disappeared completely.
Aurelia finally collapsed to the floor, sliding down against the cold edge of the bed.
Once again, he had answered everything with silence.
This unexpected child, like this marriage that had long existed in name only, seemed from the very beginning to be a mistake—a calamity she alone would have to endure.
She did not know how long she sat there before her tears seemed to run dry. Her gaze went blank.
Then—Bang!
The hospital room door was violently shoved open!
Several people rushed in, their faces covered with scarves, moving with sharp, practiced speed. Behind them, others carried old-fashioned cameras, their expressions excited and eager.
- Writer
