Chapter 2

Smith texted me at ten o'clock that night.

He said he had just finished working and arrived at his hotel.

He said he was too tired to video call me today.

He told me to take care of myself and call him if anything happened.

I replied to each message, telling him not to worry, that I was fine.

I asked the coffee shop barista, "Where's Ms. Clement? She's not here?"

The barista, a simple and good-hearted guy, saw my familiar tone and smiled.

"She went out, just left! It's her birthday today, so she must be on a date with her boyfriend. She was carrying a huge bouquet of roses, so romantic!"

I nodded, got my coffee to go, and left.

This city is huge; finding two people is incredibly difficult.

But Smith had bought me a smartwatch with call functions.

I'd slipped it into his laptop bag before he left.

He bought it for me when I was four months pregnant.

I'm the kind of person who gets really severe morning sickness.

Up until my fourth month of pregnancy, my weight was decreasing, not increasing.

I didn't know I was already anemic, nor did I know I would faint in a mall due to poor ventilation.

Smith was terrified. His hands were still trembling when I woke up.

That watch was for monitoring my health and tracking my real-time location.

It was expensive, so its GPS accuracy was extremely high. Just like now, it had been at a hotel on the twelfth floor for three hours.

I didn't rush over that night.

My due date was only twenty-three days away, and I still had to prioritize myself.

I threw out the coffee, drank some milk, and lay on the soft bed, listening to white noise for sleep.

But even so, I couldn't sleep, just like that night over a month ago.

That was the first time I snooped through Smith's phone, because he was so agitated.

He cut his hand while peeling an apple for me.

He dropped and broke a glass while pouring me water.

He slammed his foot into the chair in front of him, his face dark.

His outburst made me scream.

He apologized, saying he was upset about something at work, that he didn't mean it.

But when I woke up in the middle of the night, I found his side of the bed cold and empty.

Smith had smoked on the balcony all night.

With a sinking heart, I unlocked his phone.

The chat interface hadn't been exited.

The person saved as 'Clement' had sent a message that afternoon.

"If you had met me first, would you have married me?"

Smith hadn't replied. Not a single word.

But that night, my heart died right there, in his phone.