We're Over, and You Want Me to Be Jealous?

"Back when you held a knife to your own throat to force me not to pick up Ian, why didn't you say you had to go home and be with your wife, huh?" Amanda screamed.

"Now you're telling me you're married to someone else? It's obvious you're just trying to make me angry and jealous. Your tricks are pathetic, Steven!"

As I stared at her smug expression, I felt nothing but pity for her. Did she seriously think I would get back together with her after everything she'd done to me?

"Ms. Crane, how you choose to think is your business. It has nothing to do with me."

I floored the accelerator. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Amanda staggering backward from the sudden force.

…

After I got home, I couldn't sleep that night.

The moment I closed my eyes, all I saw was the ghastly white lights of the psychiatric hospital and Amanda's cold, indifferent expression.

I tossed and turned in bed until the early hours of the morning, when a petite figure slipped into my arms.

"Did you have a nightmare again?" Mia Johnson, my wife, asked.

Her voice was soft and gentle. She rested her cheek lightly against my chest, took my hand, and placed it over her abdomen.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here, and so is the baby. It's all in the past now."

At last, the uneasiness in my heart slowly settled, and I finally drifted into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, a project review meeting had been scheduled. As I was the person in charge of the project, I couldn't avoid it.

I straightened my suit and walked into the conference room with a calm expression.

Amanda sat at the head of the conference table, sporting dark circles under her eyes. The moment she saw me, her brows drew together sharply.

"Mr. Walsh."

Tapping her fingers on the table, she said coldly, "Crane Group takes this project extremely seriously. You showed up two minutes late to the meeting.

"Is it because you look down on us, Mr. Walsh? Or are you implying that your company has so much going for it that you don't even care about Crane Group's investment?"

She was clearly picking a fight on purpose. Fortunately, I had come prepared. I pulled out an ultrasound report and dropped it onto the table.

"Although I'd rather not bring personal matters into the workplace, Ms. Crane, to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings and harassment, I think it's best to clarify a few things.

"My wife is 36 weeks pregnant. We're expecting twins. Her health isn't great, and I'm worried about her. So, for the remainder of this project, I'll be applying to switch to remote follow-up or have my deputy take over from me. I'd like to spend more time with her."

The conference room fell into a dead silence.

Amanda snatched up the ultrasound report, gripping it so tightly it looked like the paper might tear. Her eyes locked onto the pregnancy duration—36 weeks.

At the time, we hadn't even crossed paths again yet.

"No! You're lying to me. How could you? How could you really let another woman get pregnant with your child?" Amanda's voice was hoarse.

She looked up at me, her eyes rimmed red, looking like a hurt and cornered animal.

"Who is that woman?" she questioned through clenched teeth, her hand clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"That has nothing to do with you, Ms. Crane. If there's nothing else, shall we begin the meeting?" I took back the ultrasound report. "All of our time is precious. Let's not waste it."

The meeting dragged on with a suffocating tension in the air. Amanda was completely distracted, zoning out several times.

Once it was over, I gathered my things and prepared to leave.

The moment I stepped out of the elevator, Amanda blocked me in the hallway.

"Get rid of them."

She stood firmly in my path, her eyes still red.

I stared at her in disbelief. "What did you just say?"

"I said, get rid of the babies your wife is pregnant with."