Never Want to See You Again, Husband

"I wasn't feeling well, so I came back early to rest. I forgot to tell you."

Perhaps I had lived with lies for so long that I, too, could now fabricate them with a calm face and steady voice.

Looking shaken, Logan climbed into bed and wrapped me tightly in his arms as though terrified I might slip away.

"Baby, next time you have to tell me where you're going. Otherwise, I'll go crazy. Even if I had to search the entire city, I'd find you."

I closed my eyes and gave no reply.

After all, in three days, he would never find me again.

The next morning, perhaps out of guilt for the night before, Logan sent over an elaborate set of jewelry.

"Baby, yesterday was my fault. Please don't be angry with me."

I glanced at the jewels, then casually set them aside. Instead, I picked up a small box and handed it to him.

"I'm not angry. This is my anniversary gift for you. Don't open it until two days later."

Originally, I had commissioned a custom brooch from a foreign designer as his gift. But on the day I discovered his betrayal, I threw the brooch away. In its place, I put the only thing that mattered—the wedding ring I had once vowed never to take off.

That ring would be the last thing I left him.

Curiosity flickered across his face as he accepted the box.

"Baby, yesterday was our anniversary. Why wait two more days?"

I smiled faintly. "Because it holds a special surprise. It'll only have meaning if you open it then."

His eyes warmed with anticipation.

"Alright. I'll do exactly as you say. I'll open it in two days."

Just as his words fell, the doorbell rang.

When I opened the door, Angela stood there with tears streaming down her face, looking pitiful and fragile.

A flash of panic crossed Logan's expression before he quickly took her by the arm and led her toward the back garden.

"Baby, Angela has something urgent to discuss. We'll talk outside so we don't disturb your breakfast."

From the upstairs window, I watched as Angela flung herself into his embrace.

But instead of indulging her, he yanked her away with an angry glare.

"Are you insane? I told you never to come to my house. If Arissa finds out about us, I won't forgive you!"

At his roar, Angela's tears fell even faster. Trembling, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her bag and thrust it into his hands.

"I know I shouldn't have come... but I'm pregnant."

Her voice cracked, desperate.

"The doctor said what happened yesterday was too rough. The fetus isn't stable. I'm terrified, Mr. Miranda... what if something happens to our baby? This is our first child."

My body froze. It felt as if a giant hand had clamped around my heart, squeezing the air from my lungs.

Pregnant? Angela... was pregnant?

When we first married, we had discussed children. But Logan told me that a child would divide our love, dilute the devotion between us. He only wanted our marriage to hold the purest, most complete affection. And I, touched by what I thought was sincerity, had agreed.

Now I realized—his refusal of children applied only to me. It hadn't stopped him from planting life in another woman.

At first, shock flickered across his features. Then, reading the report in his hand, his brows eased into relief.

"Nine weeks? The first trimester requires careful rest."

"You wait in the car. I'll take you back to the hospital for another checkup. I won't let anything happen to the baby."

Upon hearing that, Angela's tears transformed into a radiant smile. She rose onto her toes and kissed him.

His eyes darkened, and he pulled her closer, taking control of the kiss with force.

The two clung to each other, mouths desperate and unrestrained. Angela's arms wound around his neck as though she belonged there. Finally, Logan pushed her back slightly, his voice low and hoarse.