I Miscarried, and My Husband Laughed

To this day, all that’s left between Damian and me is a marriage certificate. Nothing else.

The story of a rich young master saving an ugly duckling was always just a fairy tale.

When Damian came back, it was almost midnight.

He pulled a piece of cake out of a paper bag. There were clearly marks where candles had been stuck in.

“Today’s kind of an anniversary, if you think about it,” he said. “Here, I bought you a piece of cake.”

I let out a mocking laugh. In his heart, whose anniversary was he really celebrating?

Half an hour earlier, Seraphina had posted a photo of a cake too.

Matcha flavor. A whole one, covered in candles.

“Reunion Day 999 – Anniversary.”

Then I looked at the slice Damian held in front of me. The top layer of matcha powder was completely gone.

All that was left was a faint sheen, like something had been licked off.

My stomach lurched. I gagged, snatched the cake from his hand, and tossed it straight into the trash.

Damian’s face changed on the spot.

“Penny, I’ve been giving you face, and you keep pushing it, huh? You’ve been acting like a fucking brat all day!

“Think about who you are and who I am. You think you’d be sleeping in a house this big if it weren’t for me?

“You’d better take a good hard look at your attitude. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee you’ll be Mrs. Gifford much longer.”

After delivering his little speech, he yanked a suitcase out of the closet, threw a few pieces of clothing in with a clatter, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Damian didn’t come back for an entire week. He didn’t call, didn’t text. Nothing.

Before, I would have been terrified, blowing up his phone with calls and messages.

This time, I just went on with my work and my life, calm as ever.

Not having to get up at five to make breakfast, not spending weekends doing deep cleanings—turns out life is pretty damn easy without all that.

On Friday, while I was at work, Damian suddenly called.

The phone rang once, then he hung up.

I figured he’d dialed the wrong number and ignored it.

Half an hour later, he called again.

“You didn’t see my call?”

“I did. What is it? I’m busy.”

There was a stunned silence on the other end. Damian took a few deep breaths, like he was trying to tamp down his temper.

“Tomorrow’s my mom’s birthday. We’re holding a banquet at the Kensington Grand Hotel. I’ll pick you up at ten.”

“I have to go too?”

“If you don’t go, who will? Aren’t you the Gifford daughter-in-law?” he snapped, then hung up.

I opened Moments again.

Surprisingly, Loretta had deleted that “family of three” photo.

The next morning, Damian’s car was already downstairs, horn blaring nonstop.

When I came down, his gaze landed on my old evening dress and bare face, and the corners of his mouth instantly drooped.

Seraphina, sitting in the passenger seat with perfect makeup, rolled down the window and gave me a once-over before letting out a snort of laughter.

“Damian, women need to be pampered. Don’t bully Penny.”

“Doesn’t matter how much you pamper a weed, it’s never going to turn into a flower,” Damian said with an eye roll.

I said nothing, just slipped into the back seat and lowered my head, scrolling through my phone.

Damian, oddly enough, kept glancing back at me a few times.

When we got to the hotel, a few of the Gifford family’s servants saw us and hurried over to help with the things in the car.

“Young Master, Young Madam, Old Madam’s been waiting for you,” one of them said.

A new servant I didn’t recognize stepped in between me and Damian and Seraphina, eagerly leading the two of them forward.

The other servants exchanged awkward looks.

“Frank, she’s actually the—”

Before he could finish, Loretta was already walking over with a warm smile.

“Godmother, happy birthday~ I bought you a gorgeous imperial green necklace. It’ll look amazing on you~” Seraphina cooed, leaning in sweetly.

“Good girl, Seraphina. We’re family; you don’t need to bring gifts. You’re just too thoughtful!”