Chapter 1

My husband, Eric, was on a business trip abroad when he got caught in a terrorist attack.

Everyone started calling me.

The embassy reached out, asking me to come in for discussions.

Even Eric’s family and colleagues bombarded me with calls, inquiring about the situation—some even offered to help bring him back, free of charge.

I had just come out of the delivery room, yet I calmly hung up on call after call.

After all, when Eric saw the news of his ex-girlfriend, Aria, a war correspondent, caught in the crossfire of a terror attack, he left me—his pregnant wife—to fly over and make sure she was safe.

Back then, I was leaking amniotic fluid, clutching my swollen belly, and I asked him:

“Are you really going to abandon your wife and unborn daughter to go into a war zone? Eric, if you go, I will not be responsible for the consequences.”

Eric had taken all our bank books and passports and shouted at me, “You and the baby aren’t going to die anytime soon—she, on the other hand, could be dead the next second!”

“You’re just giving birth. Haven’t you always been strong?” With that, he slammed the door and left.

So, if he’s the one throwing his life away, why should I save him?

——————

Eric loved watching international news. I never understood why—until two days ago when a news report aired.

A female war correspondent had been captured by terrorists during an interview.

The footage lasted only a second, but I recognized her immediately—Aria, the most famous anchor on the international channel.

At that moment, I was nine months pregnant, about to go into labor. Sitting in a rocking chair in the living room, I rested my hand on my belly and felt a pang of sympathy for the journalist.

The next second, Eric knocked over the fruit bowl in a panic.

He stood up so quickly that his knee slammed into the corner of the coffee table.

The impact looked so painful that even I winced, but Eric didn’t seem to feel a thing.

He staggered into the kitchen for a glass of water but accidentally hit the hot water button, scalding himself so badly he dropped the glass, shattering it.

Ignoring his reddened, burned skin, he rushed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

An hour later, Eric finally emerged.

“I… I have to go on a business trip.”

I slowly stood up, hand still resting on my belly.

“Eric, my due date is in the next couple of days. I could go into labor at any time. It’s not a good time for a trip. What if the contractions start suddenly?”

“You know my mother died in childbirth with my younger brother. I’m genuinely terrified of giving birth.”

“Didn’t you say the thing you were most looking forward to was being the first person our daughter saw when she opened her eyes?”

Eric’s face paled, but after a moment, he said, “This trip is really important to me—I have to go. But don’t worry, I’ll definitely be back before you give birth.”

I gave him a broken smile.

Even though the pain in my belly was already sharp and spasmodic, and fluid was trickling down my legs like a faucet had been turned on.

“I’ll agree. But Eric, I want you to know—whatever consequences come from this trip, you’ll face them alone. I won’t bear any of it for you.”

Maybe my expression was too solemn, because Eric’s body trembled slightly.

Then, as if swearing an oath, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll come back safely.”

With that, he rushed into the room, hastily packed a few items of clothing, and shoved on his shoes, ready to leave.

Just as he was about to walk out the door, I couldn’t stop myself. I softened and called out to him.

“Eric, wait a second.”

He turned back, visibly irritated.

“Didn’t you already say I could go? Why are you calling me back now?”

Clutching my hand tightly into a fist, the pain in my belly intensifying, I remained calm.

“You forgot your passport.”

I dragged my body, still leaking amniotic fluid, back into the bedroom.

I brought him his passport, and then handed him a bank card.

That card held every paycheck Eric had transferred to me over the seven years of our marriage.

His hand trembled slightly as he took the passport and the card, and even his eyes began to redden.

Chapter 2

For a moment, I thought he might stay.

But instead, he stuffed the card and passport into his bag and swore again:

“I promise I’ll be back before the baby comes.”

Then he slammed the door and left in a rush.

I listened to the echo of the door slamming shut in our now-empty home and calmly called the maternity ward and a postnatal care center.

A man who didn’t even notice my water had broken dared to swear he’d return in time for the birth.

How laughable.

Eric and I met through a mountaineering club.

Back then, I worked at a tech company under intense pressure. I regularly worked overtime, and the only time I could breathe was on weekends when I hiked to recover some energy.

He joined the club in my second year there. At first, we were just regular teammates, but we always charged ahead together, always the first to reach the summit. Over time, we grew close.

He worked in investment banking.

I worked in internet tech.

He liked hiking, running, and working out.

So did I.

When we summited our hundredth mountain, he confessed his love to me.

No fancy words, no over-the-top romance.

Just one sentence: “Freya, let’s be together.”

I agreed.

Not because he was especially charming—my father was the king of romance. When he pursued my mother, he lit up half the city with fireworks and even got arrested for disturbing the peace.

But that passion ultimately destroyed my mother. When she was pregnant with their second child, my father’s mistress showed up, deliberately provoking my mother who was about to go into labor—and it killed her on the operating table.

So I’d long since realized: romance is cheap. Reliability is what matters.

And Eric was reliable.

He was never late.

His gifts were always cliché, but he never forgot a single occasion.

He wouldn’t pick me up when it rained, but the moment I called, he’d come without hesitation.

So, after three years of dating, we got married.

Married life wasn’t much different from before.

We split chores equally. On holidays, we took turns choosing vacation spots—one trip to a place he liked, one to a place I liked.

It was calm, orderly, and uneventful.

I once believed I was made for this kind of life.

Until three years ago, when one of his college friends got married, and he brought me along to the wedding.

At the bachelor party, one of his very drunk friends pulled him aside and cried:

“Eric, seeing you like this—with no spark in your eyes—breaks my heart.”

“I’m getting married tomorrow. I’m finally stepping into happiness. But you… you’re like someone who’s locked his heart away.”

“If Aria hadn’t insisted on becoming a war reporter, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

I saw Eric glance at me, instinctively.

He quickly explained, “He’s drunk. Don’t listen to him.”

I just smiled and said nothing.

On the way home, leaning in the passenger seat, I said calmly, “I don’t ask for much in a partner. But the one thing I need is for him to be over his ex.”

He stood where the hallway light couldn’t reach, so I couldn’t see his expression.

But from that night on, the name Aria vanished from our lives.

Until now.

Chapter 3

Because I hadn’t been answering calls.

I had just finished nursing our daughter at the postnatal center and was about to put her to sleep when the door suddenly flew open.

It was my mother-in-law, Victoria.

She rushed in, her voice trembling:

“Freya, why haven’t you been answering your phone? William’s at the embassy, practically losing his mind!”

“Come home with me right now. Bring Eric’s passport and documents—we have to get to the embassy immediately and confirm what’s happening.”

William was my father-in-law.

I didn’t respond right away. I calmly said six digits: “2-1-0-6-3-0.”

She froze.

I carefully tucked the blanket around my daughter before slowly explaining, “That’s the code to the front door. If you need his documents, you can get them yourself.”

Victoria’s hands trembled.

“Freya, how can you be so cold? Eric is in a war zone—his life’s in danger.”

“He sent a group message asking for help. He’s been shot in the leg and is hiding in a stranger’s home, trying to dodge gunfire!”

“I know you just had surgery and need time to recover, but this is an emergency. Can’t you just come with me to the embassy, just once?”

She was shaking all over, looking like she might break down at any second.

I still spoke calmly. “I knew he was injured. Before he sent out that mass message, he had already sent me several desperate pleas for help. I didn’t reply.”

Victoria staggered, nearly losing her balance.

I looked at her, and I won’t deny I wavered a little inside.

After all, for the past seven years, she had treated me well. During the years I was without a mother, she had filled that void.

But all of that had already been destroyed—by Eric himself.

I took a USB drive from the nightstand and handed it to her.

“This is a recording of the conversation between me and Eric that night. Watch it first, then we’ll talk.”

Victoria took it with trembling hands. When the video ended, she collapsed to the floor. Her lips quivered for a long time before she finally managed to speak.

“Freya… you have to believe me. Nothing ever happened between Eric and Aria.”

I still couldn’t harden my heart completely. Even though the pain from my C-section was still sharp, I forced myself to get out of bed and helped her up.

Just like that day when Eric left—I had already gone into labor, my water had broken—but I still softened and handed him his passport and bank card.

I said gently, “I know nothing physical happened between him and Aria. But the fact that he was willing to leave his wife and unborn child behind to fly into a war zone for her—that says everything about his choice.”

“He was willing to let my daughter be born without her father. He was willing to let me face the surgery alone. A man like that should be held accountable for his decisions.”

As I spoke, Victoria’s face grew paler and paler. In the end, she didn’t argue further.

Maybe even she couldn’t find a reason to convince me.

She finally gave up and stood up, her body trembling. “You… get some rest. I’ll leave now.”

She walked out the door looking like she’d aged ten years in an instant, stumbling as she went.

Although I truly felt sorry for her, I still called out before she could leave completely.

“Victoria, let me know sometime this week when you and William can move out of that apartment.”

They had been living in a property I had fully paid for, ever since I got married.

Victoria turned back, exhaustion written all over her face.

“Do you really have to rush this? Can’t you wait a little?”

I shook my head.

“Did Eric wait? When he left, he didn’t even take me—whose water had already broken—to the hospital first. He just flew out of the country.”

“I just want all the marital property matters settled before he comes back.”