Miscarriage Shadows, His White Moonlight Glows

Chapter 1----- The Seven-Year Itch In the seventh year of my marriage with Gavin Hollis, I went to his company to see him, only to overhear a conversation he was having with someone else. "Seven years with your wife—must be blissful, huh?" Gavin replied indifferently, "What if I told you I never loved her? Would you believe me?" "Come on, you wouldn't stay with her for seven years if you didn't love her. Are you still hung up on Serena? Gavin, she's been abroad for years." "Don't talk nonsense. Serena and I are long over—" There was an inexplicable melancholy in his voice. Serena was Gavin's first love. It had been so long since I'd last heard that name. His friend fell silent, and my grip on the door handle loosened. The thermal lunchbox in my hand was still warm, filled with the chicken soup I had prepared for him that morning. He had mentioned feeling exhausted lately. But now, the warmth in my hands turned icy, seeping into my bones. I placed the lunchbox on his secretary's desk and left without a word. Seven years. Seven years together. Hearing him say he never loved me hurt more than I cared to admit. So the seven-year itch was real—except Gavin had never itched for me at all. Rain lashed against the windows, thunder rumbling ominously. Curled up on the sofa, I stared blankly at the TV. The clock ticked past 1 AM, but Gavin still hadn't returned. In the past, I would've called him repeatedly, asking when he'd be home. And he would've snapped impatiently, "Freya, don't you have your own life?" I used to laugh and say, "You are my life." Now, the thought made me pity myself. Maybe he was right. At some point, I had stopped having a life outside of him. The TV droned on, the boring late night talk shows drowned out by the storm. The villa was eerily silent. It was nearly 2 AM when Gavin finally came home. The moment the door opened, a gust of rain-chilled air swept in. He seemed surprised to see me. "You're still awake?" I hummed listlessly. "Couldn't sleep." He didn't press further, just changed his shoes and headed to the bedroom. We lay side by side, backs turned, not a word exchanged. Lightning flashed outside, and my mind replayed his words over and over. I never loved her. A dull ache spread through my chest. I bit my lip, tears spilling silently. How strange—I hadn't cried all day, but now that he was here, I couldn't hold back. Gavin wasn't asleep. He rolled over and pulled me into his arms. "Tomorrow's our anniversary. Any plans?" His body was warm, his breath tickling my neck. I used to love being held by him. For seven years, I'd craved this embrace. But now, I stiffened. "Whatever," I murmured. "My secretary picked out a gift. I'll be busy tomorrow, so I won't have time to celebrate." With that, he let go and turned away. I got used to it. Every anniversary, I spent it alone. This year would be no different. Sleep never came. Only at dawn did exhaustion finally pull me under. When I woke, Gavin was already gone. At breakfast, the doorbell rang. It was Clara, his secretary—young, beautiful, with a figure to match. She flashed me a polished yet insincere smile. "Mrs. Hollis, this is your anniversary gift from Mr. Hollis." I took the Hermès bag from her. The first time I received one, I'd been overjoyed. Now, I felt nothing. "Who picked this" I asked flatly. "Mr. Hollis picked it himself. Do you not like it?" Like it? Of course I did. He'd given me the same bag three times in a row now. At some point, Gavin had lost all patience with me. He was just going through the motions. And today wasn't even our anniversary. That was next month. But I was tired. Too tired to argue. I decided to ask for a divorce today. After seven years, I think I deserve a decent farewell. Before cooking, I called Gavin to confirm he'd be home for dinner. Three hours later, the table was laden with dishes—tuna, short ribs, Risotto… All his favorites. Before meeting him, I couldn't cook. But his stomach was sensitive to any takeouts, so I watched a bunch of Youtube tutorials and learned. After marriage, he promised to take care of me, to let me be a housewife. And like a fool, I believed him. I became a woman who revolved entirely around him. Gavin was always late. Tonight was no exception. I sat quietly as the food grew cold, my heart numb. I called him. If we were ending this, I wanted to do it face-to-face.