Chapter 6

When Marcus married Isabelle, I was on an operating table.

For this child, I worked five different jobs, even delivering food right up until I was seven months pregnant.

The constant strain led to complications, and even a C-section was touch-and-go.

As I lay there, bleeding profusely, fighting to save the child inside me, I heard the television from outside.

The TV was broadcasting a lavish, 'wedding of the century' ceremony.

The protagonists were Marcus and Isabelle.

I screamed, my voice raw from the pain, as they walked down the aisle.

My womb was cut open, a bloody mess, as their eyes met.

I lay on the operating table, pale and barely clinging to life.

They exchanged rings, gazing deeply into each other's eyes, speaking vows of 'never leaving.'

The way he looked at her was pure adoration.

In that moment, I felt like I had died.

The heartbreak was a searing pain, worse than childbirth.

But after the pain, a strange calm settled over me.

The nurse, wiping sweat from her brow after a frantic shift, wheeled me back to my room.

The wedding on TV was slowly drawing to a close.

Marcus and Isabelle embraced, kissing. The audience applauded thunderously, tears streaming down their faces as they blessed the couple.

Even the nurse who was administering my IV couldn't help but sigh, "What a perfect match."

Yes, what a perfect match.

Ever since high school, 'perfect match' had been synonymous with Marcus and Isabelle.

The whole world seemed to be rooting for them to get married, saying if they didn't, love itself would cease to exist.

Isabelle, however, fell in love with someone else.

Marcus was heartbroken and furious. He drowned himself in alcohol, spiraling into self-pity, and then he confessed his feelings to me.

He was truly pathetic then, sobbing in my arms, asking if I'd be with him.

Against my better judgment, I said yes.

And just like that, we were together, our relationship surprisingly uneventful.

He did everything a boyfriend was supposed to do.

But whenever he saw anything about Isabelle, his handsome brows would furrow, and he'd fall silent for the entire day.

I foolishly believed he'd eventually get over her.

But even more heartbroken than him were the people who desperately wanted him and Isabelle to be together.

They were furious with him, demanding to know why he was with me, why he wasn't fighting to win Isabelle back.

Marcus, clearly annoyed, retorted, "She chose to be with an ordinary man, so I'll choose to be with an ordinary woman. If this fairytale is going to be shattered, let's shatter it completely."

So that was it.

I had just found out I was pregnant when I heard him say that.

I was in the room, carefully and excitedly holding the ribbon-wrapped gift box with the pregnancy test inside, planning to show it to him.

The moment I heard his words, my blood ran cold.

The ribbon-wrapped gift box in my hand suddenly felt incredibly ironic.

How could I have thought he truly liked me, that he'd want a child with me?

How could I have ever believed that *he* would fall in love with a woman like me?

I didn't have Isabelle's beauty, or the privileged background of a socialite, or her reputation.

I didn't have the idyllic childhood she shared with Marcus.

Why did I ever think he truly wanted to be with me?

I had once believed he held at least a little affection for me.

But at that moment, I snapped to a harsh realization: he was only with me out of spite.

Out of spite against Isabelle.