“No.” I turned off the faucet, faced him with an emotionless gaze.
“Just tired.”
He studied me closely, suspicion flickering in his eyes, before finally loosening his grip and cupping my face.
“Pregnancy is exhausting. Eat dinner and rest early. Tomorrow I’ll take you shopping for clothes—for you and the baby.”
His performance was flawless. If I hadn’t overheard the truth with my own ears, I might have fallen into his lies again, willingly stepping into his trap.
At dinner, I stared at the table full of dishes, feeling only nausea.
Daniel kept piling food onto my plate, playing the part of a perfect husband.
“Eat more. You’re eating for two now.”
“This fish soup is good for pregnant women. I had Mrs. Zhang make it especially—try some.”
Looking at his concerned face, I almost laughed.
Here was a man plotting to kill me and my child, yet urging me to eat more at the dinner table—such hypocrisy, such cruelty.
I set my chopsticks down, meeting his gaze with clear, unshaken eyes.
“Daniel.” I called his name like I would a stranger’s.
“Hm? What is it? Are you not feeling well?” He froze, then his face shifted to anxious concern, setting down his chopsticks and taking my hand.