In the last month, he still chose his first love

I originally didn’t care.

Who doesn’t have a past?

Besides, after he sobered up, he would return to his meticulous scholar self.

He would go to work on time, not participate in social gatherings, and always report his business trips.

Even his students would laugh and say,

“Professor Wei loves his wife so much. As soon as class ends, he rushes home. He’s basically a wife slave.”

Our relationship couldn’t be called passionate, but it was respectful, and it had remained steady for many years.

But now, Joyce suddenly brought up “the order of things.”

It made it seem like I had barged into their relationship, becoming the third party disrupting their love.

I glanced at Felix.

At just eight years old, he had already learned to judge right and wrong with bias.

I didn’t need to guess; I knew what he must have misunderstood.

I didn’t want to explain.

I just smiled and said to Joyce,

“No need to apologize. I heard you’ve even built an underground bunker?”

I paused, my tone warm and sincere.

“Then I wish you two a shared life, and may you both lie together in the same grave.”

It was nothing but a fitting blessing.

Yet, for some reason, Chase’s expression suddenly darkened.

His tone became irritated, clearly showing impatience.

“Are you cursing us?”

Then, he sneered.

“If you kneel down and apologize now, maybe I’ll consider, as your husband, letting you stay in a doghouse.”

“So when the asteroid hits, you won’t have nowhere to hide.”

I smiled.

Should I be grateful for such a “gift”?

I didn’t say another word.

I raised my hand and flagged down a car.

As the door slammed shut, she almost rushed in, as though escaping.

The driver started the car, and she instinctively began rummaging through her bag. Her fingers traced over everything—phone, keys, documents—only to find that the thin piece of paper was missing.

The miscarriage form.

Her movements suddenly stopped, her chest feeling as though it had been struck hard.

In that moment, she couldn’t tell if she was anxious or if she should laugh. The paper was so light, yet it carried all the truths she hadn’t yet voiced.

The car had already driven past the hospital, but she didn’t ask the driver to turn around.

There was no need.

A few seconds later, the phone screen lit up.

The first call.

The second.

The third.

The vibrations were relentless, the sound a troubling, late panic, desperately knocking at the door. She didn’t answer, only staring at the familiar name flashing on the screen, again and again, until it disappeared.

Soon, the calls turned into messages.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Where are you now?”

“Did the hospital make a mistake?”

“Pick up the phone.”

The words came quickly, but too late.

She stared at the messages and suddenly found them a bit ridiculous.

If he truly cared, why would it take a miscarriage form for him to realize what had happened?

Her finger hovered over the screen, but she didn’t respond.

The view outside the car window sped by, the white hospital building long gone behind her. She took a deep breath and pressed the power button.

The screen went dark, and for the first time, the world was silent.

This time, she wouldn’t explain, wouldn’t wait, and wouldn’t look back.

I don’t know if the world will end in one month later.

But I know this, Chase—between you and me, it is truly over.