Love Fades Only Shattered Dreams Remain

I thought his care was a sign of love, but it was actually a murder intent in disguise. “Hubby, I don’t like the milk’s taste. Can I skip this one?”

Vincent gave a helpless smile, but he didn’t let me refuse. “Jude, don’t be stubborn. The doctor said the more you dislike the food, the more your body needs it.”

“If you don’t rest well, the baby won’t either. Aren’t you the one who loves them the most? Be good—for the sake of our baby. Here, let me help you drink it.”

He was half persuasive, half insistent as he pressed the rim of the glass to my lips. I had no chance to refuse.

Vincent, were you so afraid that my child would stand in Estelle’s way? Or do you believe that the only person worthy of having your child is Estelle?

I closed my eyes in despair and drank the entire glass of milk.

In less than half an hour, the effects of the drug began to take hold. I curled up on the bed in agony, drenched in cold sweat from the pain. Vincent had just finished calling our private doctor when he returned to our room. It was as if he’d been waiting outside all along.

Even though I had been through this seven times before, losing my child once again still felt like a knife twisting in my heart.

Through the haze of pain, I vaguely heard the doctor’s voice “Mr. Long, your wife has lost significantly more blood than in her previous miscarriages. I’m afraid her body has been critically damaged and she’ll never be able to conceive again.”

Vincent said nothing, his eyes red as he cradled me in his arms. “Jude, don’t worry. Even if we can’t have children, I’ll still love you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

From being the pampered CEO who had everything handed to him, Vincent now personally cleaned the bloodstains from my body. He was worried I’d catch a cold after the miscarriage. So, he held me tightly in his arms to keep me warm as I slept.

In the dead of night, Vincent muttered in the middle of his deep sleep, “Elle, don’t be afraid. I’ll make sure you get your happiness.”

The tears I had been holding back for so long finally broke free. On our wedding day, Vincent had promised me happiness, but it was only a lie to keep me from interfering with Estelle’s life.

At that moment, I suddenly realized that my entire marriage had been nothing but a complete joke.

I quickly sent a message to my best friend abroad:

[You once invited me to join you to go around the world, right? I’ve decided—I’ll come to Lichtonia to see you the day after tomorrow.]

I put my phone down, but my lower abdomen still ached terribly.

The thought that I had just lost another child and that it was his biological father who had taken it from me, left me breathless with pain. I locked myself in the bathroom, letting my tears fall freely as I replayed all the moments I had shared with Vincent over the years.

When I stood up, my phone accidentally slipped from my hand.

I bent down to pick it up. Then, I noticed something under the sink—a precious bundle wrapped carefully in layers of expensive satin.

Curious, I unwrapped it, only to discover it was a thick photo album. An album filled with pictures of Estelle, from the age of 15 to her current 28.

The design on the cover was familiar. I had seen it in Vincent’s office before. Vincent had always loved photography.

Although Vincent was Kenneth’s younger cousin, he was only a few years older than us. When we were kids, Vincent would often watch Kenneth and I fighting over something. Vincent looked aloof as if he couldn’t be bothered with the childish games we played.

One day, when Estelle just turned 15, she approached me and asked if we could be friends. I didn’t think much of it. Since I always saw her alone, I introduced her to Kenneth and Vincent.

It was around that moment on, Vincent started joining our activities. He even began learning photography.

I thought it was simply a sign of him maturing. In truth, it was because he had found someone he liked.

The photos in the album—I only saw a few of them, while I never even saw the rest even from back then.