The next day.
The moment Gillian got off her shift, she saw exactly what she expected: York waiting at the hospital entrance to pick her up, holding a cup of hot milk tea in his hand.
"Your favorite. Drink it to warm up."
As the man handed her the hot milk tea, he gently rubbed her small hands. Feeling how freezing they were, he frowned at her. "I'm bringing you hand warmers for work from now on. Your hands are always freezing."
Gillian took the tea and cradled it in her palms.
She knew full well that all this newfound affection was meant entirely for the baby, not for her.
She was nothing more than an incubator.
Once in the car, he took her to a high-end boutique to try on clothes.
These were exclusively haute couture, the latest seasonal collections, and he bought everything she tried on.
As they passed a bridal shop, an exquisite mermaid-style gown caught her eye. It was distinctly styled like a wedding dress.
Gillian couldn't help but linger on it.
Every girl had a dream about walking down the aisle, fantasizing about how beautiful she would look on her big day. Once upon a time, she had dreamed of what her wedding with York would be like.
But... she and York never had a wedding.
Even though their relationship had decayed to this bitter point, the void of never having a wedding still left an echoing ache in her chest.
She couldn't help but imagine that in the future, he and Hailey would undoubtedly have a spectacular, century-defining wedding.
Suddenly, Gillian felt deeply relieved. Relieved that she had lost the baby.
If she hadn't miscarried, her child would have been born solely to play second fiddle to his mistress's child.
Her own life was already miserable enough; did her child really need to be born into a life of subservience too?

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