Chapter 2

"One hundred per song. Charged by the song."

My voice was so steady even I found it unfamiliar.

Someone jeered and requested a love song. I opened my mouth and sang, not missing a single note.

Ethan raised his glass to his lips but never actually drank.

Luna leaned against his shoulder, smiling as she spoke.

"Not bad. Though singing love songs in a place like this is kind of pathetic."

I finished the last song, set down the microphone, and headed for the door.

In the hallway, my coworker Fiona handed me six hundred dollars.

"Mr. Reed's table didn't settle the tab."

I counted it and put it in my pocket.

Fiona saw my expression and handed me a bottle of water.

"Melody, if you can't handle this, don't force yourself."

I twisted open the cap and took a sip.

"I can handle it."

Ethan came after me, grabbing my wrist.

"You don't need to work in a place like this."

His tone was condescending, irritating.

I looked down at his hand, tightly circling my wrist.

"Don't you need $30,000 a day for hospital fees? I haven't saved enough yet."

His pupils contracted.

I was too calm. So calm that all his prepared lines fell flat.

He ground out through clenched teeth:

"I'm not sick. You must know that by now."

I looked up at him.

"Yes, I know."

This calmness provoked his anger, his voice dropping lower and harder.

"Luna is pregnant with my child. Either you accept her moving in, or you sign the divorce papers. Give me your answer within a week."

I slowly pulled my wrist from his grip, the movement gentle.

"Okay, I'll think about it."

I turned and walked away, my pace neither fast nor slow.

In the backstage changing room, my fingers started to tremble.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and clenched them into fists to hide the shaking.

I remembered the day I gave Ethan the antique bracelet my grandmother left me.

I slid the bracelet off my wrist and placed it in his hand.

My hand had trembled that time too.

Not from heartache, but from fear he'd notice how reluctant I was and feel guilty about it.

Later he told me the secondhand shop only gave him eighty thousand.

Now I knew—Ethan had given it to the woman pregnant with his child.

I got home at 2 AM.

Sitting on the edge of the bed eating pasta, I looked down and saw the silver ring on my ring finger stuck at the knuckle, unable to come off.

I twisted it a few times. It wouldn't budge.

I went to the bathroom and ran it under cold water. The ring finally slipped off, dropping into the sink with a soft clink.

I fished it out, dried it, and put it in a drawer.

No hesitation. No second look.

My phone lit up.

Ethan sent a message: Stop working at the nightclub.

I stared at it for a long time.

Stop working at the nightclub—not because he felt bad for me, but because he found it embarrassing.

I locked the screen without replying.

The next day I went to the dance center as usual to teach children piano.

A five-year-old girl hit a wrong note and looked up at me timidly.

I bent down and smiled, saying it was okay, take your time.

I maintained that smile until the bell rang and the last parent picked up their child.

The second I stepped out of the classroom, every expression vanished from my face.

I saw Luna.

She stood at the entrance of the dance studio, holding a bag of fruit.

"Miss Harper, Ethan said you've been working hard lately. I came to check on you."

She casually glanced at my coat, her lips curving slightly.

I didn't take the fruit.

Her eyes immediately reddened, her voice fragile enough to be scattered by the wind.

"Don't blame me. He pursued me. I refused many times, but..."

She touched her lower abdomen.

"The child is innocent."