The scene Maeve had imagined didn't happen. In the end, she finished the glass of water that had been sitting half-full on the table, but in a very different way. Byron carried her, nearly drenched to the collar, to the bathroom. She leaned against him, breathless, feeling more exhausted and sleepy than if she'd run five miles. Like a fish on a chopping board, casually awaiting its fate, she lacked the strength to struggle. Afterward, she was cleaned up and tucked into bed.

Still not fully sober, and after the hot, cramped bathroom, Maeve's head spun. "Byron, I'm dizzy," she murmured. He turned off the lights, walked over, his tone calm and measured. "Are you going to drink again?" She shook her head. "No more." She frowned. The tight feeling in her stomach remained.

Byron lay down beside her, pulling her into his arms. His hand rested gently on her back, patting softly. Eyes closed, sleep claimed her. Maeve nuzzled into his chest.

"What were you so upset about today?" Byron asked.

On the verge of sleep, Maeve answered hazily, "When are you going to... divorce me?" Her voice faded to a whisper. Byron heard it. The softness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold silence. Have I been too kind? How dare she ask for a divorce? he thought.

It took Maeve two or three days to recover from her drunken stupor. After finishing her tasks, she went to the hospital for a checkup, worried about the effects of staying up all night.

"Ms. Reese, congratulations," the doctor said, smiling. "You're four weeks pregnant." Pregnant? How could that be? Maeve thought, freezing. Her lips parted, but no words came for a long time. Panic gripped her. The timing coincided with the night she'd been drugged and had sought out Byron. But she'd taken emergency contraception.

"Doctor, are you sure this isn't a mistake?" she asked.

"It's clearly shown on the report. There's no mistake," the doctor replied.

Maeve pursed her lips. "But I've been taking birth control pills, and I've been careful. How could this happen?"

The doctor, noting her youth, said kindly, "Contraceptive pills aren't 100% effective. It's rare, but possible. Your report also shows signs of a potential miscarriage, thankfully not serious. Take the prescribed medication and come back for regular checkups."

Maeve's heart spiraled. She wasn't sure what to feel. "Thank you, doctor," she said, walking absentmindedly and almost bumping into someone. Leaving the hospital, she found a bench, her face pale as the doctor's words replayed in her mind. This baby had come so suddenly. She wasn't ready to be a mother. Her gaze was vacant as she gently placed her hand on her flat stomach. The sensation was unfamiliar, terrifying. She wanted to run, but didn't know where to go.

She almost dialed her mother's number, then stopped. Her family wasn't a safe haven. A bitter smile touched her lips as she clutched her phone, feeling lost. "What am I going to do? How could I tell Byron? He doesn't like children..." she thought.

She sat until her legs went numb. Leaving, her steps were unsteady. Passing a park, she noticed children playing. Their voices were soft, their smiles innocent. Maeve laughed, then flushed with embarrassment.

Back at the apartment, Byron sat on the couch, working. As soon as he saw her, Maeve's nerves tightened.

"You're back?" Byron's gaze was calm. "You went to the hospital?" Maeve's heart leaped. "How did you know?"

He nodded toward her to-do list on a chalkboard: "Physical exam."

Maeve bit her lip. "How did the checkup go?" Byron asked.

Maeve subconsciously pressed her jacket pocket, struggling to tell him the truth. Her mind recalled Byron's words: "We don't need children between us." She clenched her palms and replied flatly, "It's nothing serious."

"Yeah?" Byron shifted his laptop. "Come here."

Maeve hesitated, feeling uneasy. She sensed something unusual in his gaze. He seemed to see right through her.

Byron pulled her into his lap. A blush crept across Maeve's cheeks. She was about to speak when she noticed him pulling the hospital report from her pocket. Her face turned pale. "Give it back!" she panicked.

Byron held her down with one hand, unfolded the report with the other. His calm face darkened, a storm brewing. Maeve knew what that look meant. He was angry. Her heart raced.

"Maeve, is this what you call 'nothing serious'?" Byron's voice was chilling.

The color drained from Maeve's face. "I... I can explain. I don't know why this is happening..."

"Why did you lie?" Byron gripped her waist, pulling her closer. "Are you that afraid of me finding out? Hmm?"

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