The trending headline was eye-catching: "Married CEO Spends 3 Hours in a Car with Popular Actress, Allegedly Flirting."
Back at home, Ethan was sitting on the couch, flipping through documents.
Hearing me open the door, he didn’t even look up, saying, "I had the maid make you some chicken soup; it’s on the table."
I nodded and walked upstairs without a word.
Seeing my lack of reaction, he slammed the contract shut, frowning.
"Why aren’t you talking? Still thinking about this miscarriage?"
Ethan picked up the bowl, pretending to feed me.
I merely took the soup, with no intention of drinking it.
"You've had 99 miscarriages already, why are you so upset this time?"
Ethan's patience was exhausted. He never expected me, the always gentle and obedient wife, to reject him.
Our eyes met.
He seemed to sense something was off.
Ethan rarely spoke to comfort me, "Don’t be sad, we’ll have children."
He reached out to hug me, but I subtly avoided his touch.
Ethan didn’t know, we had no future, let alone children.
I turned to go upstairs, intending to pack my things.
Just as he was about to stop me, his phone rang with a special ringtone, unlike the usual system notification.