When I Bleed Badly, He Called Me a Nuisance

The surgery failed. Neither the baby nor I made it out alive. My soul drifted weightlessly through the air, gazing at the chaos inside the operating room and listening to the sounds—the clatter of surgical instruments, the doctors' voices of regret, the footsteps of nurses. I could no longer feel any pain. Following my last dying wish, I drifted to Dylan Jones's side. The curtains were drawn tight, the lighting suggestive and dim. Serena Wright was pinned beneath Dylan, and a thin layer of sweat glistened on both of their bodies. "Did Jane call you just now?" Dylan furrowed his brow, his voice sharp with impatience and disdain. "Who knows what game she's playing. What else can she do except put on a poor act to beg for sympathy?" No sooner had the words left his mouth than they had s*x again, the bed frame creaking ceaselessly beneath them. "Ever since she got pregnant, she's turned into a total mess—oversensitive and over-dramatic." Dylan pulled Serena closer, his movements growing even rougher. "Exactly. How could an old woman like that ever be worthy of you—the energetic Mr. Jones?" "I'll make her sign the divorce papers tomorrow. You're far more fit to be my wife than she ever was." I hovered beside the bed, watching silently. Watching this face I had loved for ten years, a face that now filled me with nothing but utter disgust. As if something had suddenly occurred to him, Dylan picked up his phone. The screen lit up, then went dark. His fingertips hovered over the chat window for a long moment. Finally, he turned the phone off and pushed Serena to the side. "She's got more backbone this time, still hasn't come to apologize." In the past, whenever he was upset, I would always go to him first to apologize and give in to whatever he wanted. Only, I had already died on the operating table. Never again could I pick up my phone; never again could I keep pretending to be understanding and obedient. Serena asked with feigned concern, "But Jane... Isn't she pregnant?" A mocking smile tugged at the corner of Dylan's lips. "The way she looks now, that shortsighted frumpy housewife—she was not worthy of being my wife a long time ago. Once she gives birth to the child, I'll just hand her a sum of money and send her on her way." How generous—he was even willing to throw me a payout in the end. Too bad he didn't know that I had no more use for it now. Hearing the words 'frumpy housewife', I suddenly laughed until my eyes stung. My thoughts drifted back to many years ago, when Dylan cut ties with his family for me. We squeezed into a tenement and ate the cheap canned foods. We got through countless grueling nights, scrambling and scraping by together in an unfamiliar city. There was no wedding and no diamond ring, but I followed him without the slightest hesitation. Back then, Dylan held me in his arms, his eyes red, and swore a solemn oath. "Jane! I'll take care of you for the rest of my life. I'll make you the happiest princess for your whole life!" Later, his company grew bigger and bigger, and more and more people surrounded him. Every time I brought up having a child, he was either too busy or too tired—in short, he always evaded the subject. I once convinced myself that Dylan would never change, that he was just under a lot of pressure, until I saw the way he looked at Serena Wright—so gentle and familiar, exactly how he used to look at me. They started hooking up at the office, then moved to my own house, and in the end, they shamelessly carried on their affair right under my nose. I still remembered the morning of the first time he attended the board of directors as CEO. I got up before dawn to iron his shirt and accidentally left a small scorch mark. Dylan snatched the shirt out of my hand, his eyes ice-cold. "If you can't do it right, stop pretending to be capable. Don't stand there getting in my sight and annoying me." In the end, he gave that shirt to Serena. I stood there, watching the irrepressible delight on her face as she took it from him. Later, I finally got pregnant. The doctor said, "You have a rare physical condition. If you lose this baby, you might never be able to get pregnant again." I guarded that child with everything I had, walked on eggshells, and poured every ounce of my energy into protecting it. It was not until that day, when I could no longer bear the terrible abdominal pain and went to the hospital for an examination, that the doctor told me that since I had been exposed to oleander for a long time, the pregnancy was already unstable, and I could lose the baby at any moment. And I found out that oleander was being slipped into the coffee Serena gave me every single day. Dylan stood beside my hospital bed. I thought he would seek justice for our child. But he only gently held my hand, his tone soft, yet every word cut straight through my heart. "Jane, she didn't do it on purpose. She didn't know it was poisonous. The important thing is that the baby is fine. Even if we don't have this child, you're still my wife." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He actually forgave Serena? I screamed like a madwoman, demanding that she pay for what she did. But Dylan shielded Serena tightly behind his back, looking at me as if I were some hysterical lunatic making an unreasonable scene. "Serena is in charge of the company's core project! She absolutely cannot go to prison!" In the end, I signed the settlement agreement. With my own hands, I let the murderer who harmed my child walk free. After that day, I became reticent. Insomnia set in, and I lay awake night after night, eyes wide open until dawn. The doctor diagnosed me with severe depression and delusional symptoms. I kept hearing the baby in my womb speak to me. She said, "I hate Daddy!"