For Her Sake, He Married Me

When Cecelia woke up again, she was in a hospital ward filled with the scent of disinfectant.

A nurse was changing her IV drip. "You're awake? The baby…couldn't be saved. You've suffered a lot of injuries. Rest well."

Francis hurried in, exhaustion and a hint of panic on his face. He reached for Cecelia's cold hand resting on top of the blanket, but she pulled her hand away, looking at him with empty eyes.

His hand froze in mid-air. His voice was dry. "Celia, how are you feeling? I'm sorry… I really didn't see that you were about to fall, too. It was the angle. I only saw Melody about to fall over. I panicked, I…"

Cecelia forced a twisted smile as the coldness in her chest spread, reaching her now-empty belly. Even his lies were so half-hearted… What else was left to say?

"Get some rest. I'll have the doctors do a full check-up." Francis's eyes grew even more anxious when she saw her unresponsiveness.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He instinctively glanced at the message, and his brows furrowed.

"Melody… She cut her arm, and her emotional state is pretty shaken. I'll go check on her and come back right after."

He turned and left, not even staying long enough to find out that both she and their baby were already lost in this so-called accident.

As the door closed, silence filled the room again.

Cecelia's phone screen lit up by the pillow. It was a few photos and a short video from Melody.

In the photos, Francis sat by Melody's hospital bed, gently and carefully applying ointment to a scratch on her arm, the one caused by Cecelia. In the video, the two were sleeping with each other. Even in the dim light, Francis's face and Melody's voice were clear.

Cecelia stared at the screen, her stomach turning. She threw off the blanket, yanked the IV from her hand, and blood immediately oozed out. However, she felt no pain at all.

Her body was so weak that she could barely stand, but she gritted her teeth and, using the wall for support, changed out of the hospital gown and walked out of the hospital. Every step she took was painful, but each one made her mind clearer and her resolve stronger.

The afternoon sun was blindingly bright.

She took out her phone and sent the full chain of evidence, from Francis's faked evidence to how he protected Melody, to her lawyer.

Her eyes were bright, with a touch of decisiveness. She only needed to complete one last commission for a client.

Tomorrow, she would cut all ties with Francis, take her passport, and disappear.

She forced herself back to her studio.

In the center of the huge studio stood a nearly four-meter-tall scaffolding. A precious painting using silk as the canvas was mounted there, waiting for the final varnishing.

Cecelia put on her work outfit, took a deep breath, and carefully climbed up the scaffolding, step by step, toward the platform above.

Every step pulled at her unhealed wounds, cold sweat soaking her hair.

But her eyes were steady, her fingers sure, as if the whole world had narrowed down to just her and this ancient painting.

Melody, after learning Cecelia had left the hospital, came straight to the studio.

She watched Cecelia's focused, determined figure. She saw the nearly finished painting and thought of Francis's growing distraction.

A destructive thought took hold.

Melody crept into the studio silently and methodically, her eyes fixed on the main connector beneath Cecelia's feet. A few tiny bolts were already loose. Putting on a pair of gloves, Melody quietly loosened them as far as they would go.

Cecelia's attention was completely on the tip of her brush as she held her breath, and suddenly…

Crack!

A sharp, splintering sound rang out, and the narrow platform beneath her feet abruptly collapsed at a critical support point.