Chapter 4
As the anesthesia flowed into my body, I felt a strange liberation. My love for Mason seemed to fade
away bit by bit along with the loss of my child.
When I opened my eyes again, I was alone in the hospital bed. The baby was gone.
Exhausted, I picked up my phone and sent the miscarriage report to my mother.
[I’m divorcing Mason.]
She didn’t ask for details–probably having prepared herself for the inevitable collapse of my relationship with Mason. She simply responded with concern:
[Take care of yourself, sweetheart.]
[Your father and I will be back in a couple of days.]
Seeing her message brought me a sense of relief.
After completing the discharge paperwork, I went straight to a law firm and drafted divorce papers
before heading home.
As soon as I walked in, I heard giggling coming from the dressing room. Following the sound, I opened the door to find Kinsley’s startled gaze. She was standing in front of my closet, trying on my
clothes.
“I wasn’t trying to mess with your clothes on purpose,” she stammered. “I know these are your
treasures that even you don’t wear.” Her expression turned innocent as she grabbed my hand.
“But Mason is taking me to his friend’s wedding in a few days, and I’m worried about embarrassing
him if I don’t dress well.”
“You understand, right?”
I nodded slightly, my face expressionless.
Although every piece in that closet represented the evolution of my design skills–from simple hand–stitched garments to elaborate masterpieces I never allowed myself to wear–I couldn’t be
bothered to argue. I even pulled her toward the closet and took out an even more beautiful dress. “I
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Chapter 4
think this one would suit you better.”
She missed the tone in my voice, holding the dress against herself with a bright smile.
“I think so too. Thanks so much!”
But Mason, standing nearby, suddenly frowned. “Isn’t that the dress you wore when I proposed to
you?”
I didn’t try to hide it. “I just thought this dress would look better on Kinsley.”
In the next second, Mason angrily snatched the dress from Kinsley’s hands and threw it to the floor.
“What’s the meaning of giving Kinsley clothes you’ve already worn?”
“Fine, since you’re being so generous, my friend’s wedding is in three days. Make Kinsley a new dress right away.‘
“Wear it or not–that’s up to you. I won’t be making anything for her anymore.”
My response wasn’t impulsive. Since that anniversary night, I’d decided I would no longer obey Mason or cater to Kinsley.
D
But my coldness ignited Mason’s fury. He roared as he dragged me into the adjacent study.
“Aria, how long are you going to keep this up?”
“You’ll keep working until it’s done!”
Click–the door locked, and their laughter faded as they walked away.
I thought he was just letting off steam, but no one came back for the entire day. By deep night, I was so thirsty I was nearly swallowing my own saliva to survive. I desperately pounded on the door, begging Mason for water, but he coldly told me through the door that until I made a dress Kinsley liked, I didn’t deserve food or drink.
The next day, desperate to survive, I contacted a former classmate from design school. I sent him Kinsley’s measurements–which I knew by heart–and asked if he had any ready–made formal dresses that might suit her. As I did this, I silently vowed this would be the last time I would ever
submit to Mason.
Three days later, Mason finally unlocked my door. Ignoring my weakened state, his first words were
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demanding:
“Where’s the dress you designed for Kinsley?”
I pointed to the package that had been delivered earlier that day: “You should have received it.”
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