Before leaving the hospital, I made sure to ask the doctor for the tiny embryo. It wasn't fully formed, but if you looked closely, you could make out the faint shape of a baby. Clutching the small glass bottle to my chest, I felt my throat tighten.

"I'm sorry, baby," I whispered. "I wanted you so much, but I guess we just weren't meant to be."

Blinking back tears, I took a deep breath. If I was leaving, I wasn't going to carry this pain alone. I had one last gift for Troy.

When I stepped into the house I had lived in for six years, an eerie silence greeted me. Cold. Empty. As expected, Troy was probably spending the night with his ever-devoted secretary.

I had no appetite. A dull ache pulsed in my stomach as I curled up on the bed. At some point, exhaustion pulled me under.

A crash of thunder jolted me awake. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, but I ignored it, annoyed, rolling over.

Then the door creaked open.

My heart lurched. Was someone breaking in?

Just as I was about to sit up, a soaked figure appeared in the doorway.

I rubbed my eyes. "Why are you here?"

Seeing me, Troy exhaled, his tense shoulders relaxing. Shrugging off his drenched coat, he strode over and pulled me into his arms. "Felicia, it's storming. I remembered how scared you always are of thunder, so I came back."

His cold, damp clothes pressed against my skin, making me shiver. I gently pushed him away. "You're dripping wet. Go take a shower before you catch a cold."

For once, he gave me a small, almost boyish smile. "I'll join you after."

I didn't respond, just stared out the window at the flashes of lightning.

For three years, I endured countless rounds of IVF while Troy started coming home late, or not at all. At first, I convinced myself he was just busy with work. Then I found lingerie in our closet that wasn't mine. The condoms in our nightstand mysteriously began disappearing.

Then his secretary, Louise Clover, stopped hiding. She flaunted their so-called 'love' on social media, dropped hints whenever she saw me, and made it clear she didn't see me as competition.

And now, after everything, Troy suddenly remembered I was afraid of thunder.

He had no idea that after years of lonely nights, I had already learned how to endure the storm alone.

I must have dozed off again because I didn't notice when he came back from his shower. He slid into bed behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist, his breath warm against my skin.

"Felicia..." His voice was low, husky. "Can we?"

I tensed. Then, slowly, I sat up and turned to face him. My gaze drifted to the faint, telltale marks peeking from beneath his collar.

"Did Louise not satisfy you?" I asked, my voice calm.

He stiffened, embarrassment flickering into frustration. "Felicia, can you not do this? We haven't seen each other in days, and you're picking a fight again? How many times do I have to tell you? Louise is just my secretary. Taking care of my needs is part of her job! Why do you always make a big deal out of nothing?"

I watched him in silence as he finished his little rant, then shifted back onto my pillow. "Go to sleep," I said simply.

Troy let out an exasperated huff. He sat up, grabbed a pillow, and stormed toward the door. "I came back for you because I thought you were scared, and this is how you treat me? Fine. Sleep alone."

He slammed the study door behind him. The sound barely fazed me.

The last time I had been afraid of thunder, I had curled up in a corner, clutching my phone, sending him message after message. He hadn't responded until the next morning.

[You're a grown woman. Even kids aren't scared of thunder. Stop acting pathetic.]

[Louise's pipes burst. She's a woman, how was she supposed to fix them herself? I was busy helping her.]

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as tears slid down my temples.

I had never understood why a CEO needed to fix his secretary's plumbing in the middle of the night.

But none of that mattered now.

Closing my eyes, I turned my thoughts to tomorrow. I had an early flight to catch, and I wasn't going to be late.