Luc Canh Hanh immediately picked up the phone.

In just a few seconds, the relaxation on his face disappeared.

He stood up.

“What happened?”

I didn’t need to hear the answer.

His expression told me everything.

“Don’t move. I’m coming.”

He ended the call and grabbed the jacket he had just taken off.

I continued reviewing the papers on my lap.

He hesitated beside the sofa.

“Gia Nghi isn’t feeling well.”

“I see.”

“I’ll take her to the hospital.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t move.

I finally looked up.

“What?”

His eyebrows drew together.

Nothing about my reaction seemed to satisfy him.

Perhaps he had expected jealousy.

Perhaps he wanted me to stop him so he could accuse me again of being unreasonable.

Instead, I simply said:

“Drive carefully.”

He stared at me for several seconds.

Then left.

The door closed.

At 10:17 p.m., I opened my phone.

There was a message from my lawyer.

“The divorce agreement has been delivered to Mr. Luc’s office. His assistant signed for it. He should receive it tomorrow morning.”

I replied:

“Thank you.”

Then I called the hospital.

“Hello, this is On Ning. I’m calling to confirm tomorrow’s appointment.”

The nurse verified my information.

“Eight thirty in the morning?”

“Yes.”

After hanging up, I sat in the silent living room.

For a long time, my hand rested over my abdomen.

I had imagined this child before it even existed.

A little hand wrapped around my finger.

A crib beside our bed.

Luc Canh Hanh carrying the baby through the airport and pretending not to be nervous.

Those images had once made me smile.

Now they belonged to a life that no longer existed.

I whispered:

“I’m sorry.”

Then I turned off the light.

Luc Canh Hanh never came home that night.

At seven the next morning, Tong Gia Nghi posted a photograph.

A hospital room.

A man’s hand holding a cup of warm water beside her bed.

I recognized the watch immediately.

The caption read:

“Some people always appear when you need them most.”

I looked at it for three seconds.

Then clicked Like.

Twenty minutes later, I changed into ordinary clothes instead of my doctor’s coat and went downstairs.

At the hospital entrance, my colleague Dr. Lin stopped me.

“On Ning? Aren’t you working today?”

“I took leave.”

She looked surprised.

“You never take leave.”

“I had something personal.”

She smiled.

“Finally learning to rest?”

I smiled back.

“Something like that.”

At 8:22, I entered the private consultation area.

The nurse handed me several forms.

Before I could sign the last one, my phone rang.

Luc Canh Hanh.

I declined it.

He called again.

And again.

On the fifth attempt, a message appeared.

“Where are you?”

I stared at those words.

For years, I had been the one asking him that question.

Where are you?

When will you land?

Are you coming home tonight?

Why aren’t you answering?

Now he was asking me.

I didn’t reply.

Another message arrived.

“I came to your department. They said you took leave.”

Then:

“Call me immediately.”

I switched the phone to silent.

The nurse returned.

“Doctor On, we’re ready.”

I stood.

At that moment, someone called my name from behind.

“On Ning?”

I turned.

Tong Gia Nghi stood at the end of the corridor.

She was wearing the same loose beige coat she had worn the previous day.

Beside her was Luc Canh Hanh.

His face changed when he saw me.

Then his eyes moved from my ordinary clothes to the forms in my hand.

“What are you doing here?”

I said nothing.

Tong Gia Nghi looked confused.

“Doctor On, are you sick?”

Luc Canh Hanh walked toward me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I almost laughed.

“Tell you what?”

He stopped.

Perhaps he finally heard the irony.

He had spent the night beside another pregnant woman.

And now he was offended that his own wife had gone to a hospital appointment without informing him.

His gaze fell onto the top page in my hand.

He only saw two words before I folded it.

Pregnancy termination.

His face went completely blank.

“Give me that.”

I stepped back.

“No.”

“On Ning.”

His voice changed.

“What was written on that paper?”

“You already saw it.”

Tong Gia Nghi stared between us.

“Canh Hanh… what’s happening?”

He ignored her.

His eyes dropped to my stomach.

For the first time since I became pregnant, my husband looked at me as if he finally understood there might be something there.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yes.”

The word came out calmly.

His entire body stiffened.

“How long?”

“Almost eight weeks.”

“Eight…”

He seemed unable to finish.

Then he grabbed my wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I looked at his hand.

“Let go.”

He released me immediately.

His face had turned frighteningly pale.

“You’ve known all this time?”

“Yes.”

“And you were going to…”

His eyes moved toward the consultation room.

I finished the sentence for him.

“Yes.”

“No.”

It was almost a whisper.

Then louder:

“No.”

I looked at him.

“This isn’t something you get to suddenly decide.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Yesterday, you sat in my consultation room carrying another pregnant woman’s thermos and handbag.”

His expression froze.

“You knew I was your wife then too.”

Tong Gia Nghi’s face changed.

“Wife?”

She looked at him.

Then at me.

“What does she mean?”

Luc Canh Hanh didn’t answer.

That silence told her everything.

She stepped backward.

“You told me your marriage was practically over.”

I laughed softly.

“At least he told one of us the truth.”

“On Ning, enough.”

Luc Canh Hanh sounded desperate now.

“Come home with me.”

“No.”

“We need to talk.”

“We’ve had years to talk.”

“I didn’t know about the baby!”

“And if you had?”

I looked directly into his eyes.

“Would you have stayed home last night?”

He opened his mouth.

No answer came.

That was enough.

The nurse quietly approached.

“Doctor On, we need to know whether you’re proceeding with your appointment.”

Before I could answer, Luc Canh Hanh’s phone rang.

His assistant.

He rejected the call.

It rang again.

Finally he answered angrily.

“What?”

Whatever his assistant said made him stop moving.

His eyes slowly lifted toward me.

“What divorce agreement?”

I said nothing.

His face lost the last trace of color.

The assistant continued speaking on the other end.

Luc Canh Hanh looked at me, then at the hospital forms in my hand.

And finally understood that these were not two separate decisions.

I wasn’t threatening to leave him.

I had already arranged a life in which neither my marriage nor our unborn child tied me to him anymore.

He lowered the phone.

“On Ning…”

For the first time in all our years together, his voice trembled.

“When exactly did you decide you didn’t want me anymore?”