Chapter 5

I found it somewhat laughable.

That night, he was drunk, his eyes red, and he asked me, "Are you Skylar Hayes?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

But he deflated, looking at me. "No, you're not."

"Then tell me, what do you want with her?" I asked, smiling.

"To collect a debt."

A debt?

My smile froze.

"What kind of debt?"

"An emotional one." He looked pale and helpless, then added coldly, "No one messes with Liam Miller and gets away with it."

Hearing him talk about an emotional debt, I suddenly lost myself.

The next second, he kissed me.

I didn't push him away.

Of course, losing control later was partly due to my own indulgence.

In the heat of the moment, I thought maybe, just maybe, he still loved me.

I don't know how I ended up in the gynecology department.

The whole process was a blur.

I just heard the doctor say that my HCG levels were low, my uterine lining was thin, and there was a high risk of miscarriage.

The doctor wanted to prescribe me shots to sustain the pregnancy, but I refused.

Thinking of Liam's Ins post, what was there to sustain anymore...?

I took a car and went home, crestfallen.

My phone suddenly rang. It was an unknown number.

"Where are you?" It was Liam.

He hadn't called in six years, but I still recognized his voice immediately.

Aloof, cool.

"In the car," I adjusted my breathing, trying to calm down.

"You were looking for me just now? What for?" His tone was still arrogant.

I paused for a second. "Uh, it's nothing now."

He was silent on the other end for a while. "Still not giving up? We have no future."

"...Alright, then. I'm hanging up." I moved to end the call abruptly.

But he wouldn't let me.

"I heard from your doctor. Your condition isn't great. You should still come back for those shots. I'll talk to the doctor for you. As acquaintances, that's all I can do."

*Slam!* I hung up the phone.

Jerk! Who needed his help?

But he sent another text message, furiously asking, "Skylar, why have you become so rude now?"

I was livid with indignation. "What do you consider polite? Instead of lecturing me, you should go home and change more diapers!"

"?" He sent a single question mark.

I couldn't be bothered to reply.

Did he think I was still the Skylar he could manipulate from back then?

Back then, if he posted something, I'd meticulously analyze it for ages;

When chatting with him, I never dared let his reply be the last;

I racked my brain for topics, only for his replies to always be: "Sleeping." "Going to shower." "Talk later." "..."

Back home, I lay on my bed, pulled out our old photos, cut them all to shreds, and flushed his face down the toilet.

You bastard, go to hell!

But tears still streamed down my face, despite myself.