Chapter 1: First Love

A heavy rain poured relentlessly. At the hospital entrance, Cecilia Smith clutched a pregnancy test report in her frail hand. The result was unmistakable: not pregnant.

"Three years of marriage, and you're still not pregnant?" her mother, Paula Escobar, demanded, her voice sharp. Dressed impeccably and poised on high heels, Paula pointed a finger, her face etched with disappointment. "You're useless! If you don't get pregnant soon, the Rainsworth family will cast you out. What will become of the Smiths then?"

Cecilia's eyes were vacant. The words she longed to speak solidified into a single, heartbroken, "I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apologies," Paula snapped. "I want you to have Nathaniel's child. Do you understand?"

Cecilia's throat was dry. Three years of marriage, and her husband, Nathaniel Rainsworth, had never touched her. How could there be a child? Seeing Cecilia's helplessness, Paula's cruelty hardened. "If you can't manage it, help Nathaniel find another woman. He'll surely appreciate your kindness."

Cecilia stared in disbelief as her mother left, the cruelty of the request shocking her to her core. Driving home, Paula's words echoed, punctuated by a roaring in her ears—her illness worsening. A text arrived from Nathaniel, as consistent as ever in his three years of absence: I won’t be coming home tonight.

For three years, Nathaniel had never spent a night home, never touched her. Cecilia remembered their wedding night: "Since you Smiths dared to trick me into this marriage, prepare for a lifetime of solitude," he’d sneered.

Three years prior, the Smiths and Rainsworths had forged a business alliance through their marriage. The agreement was made, mutual benefit the driving force. But on the wedding day, the Smiths had unexpectedly transferred their assets—billions meant for Nathaniel—elsewhere.

A shadow crossed Cecilia's eyes, but she replied to Nathaniel's text with her usual, "Okay." Unconsciously, she crumpled the pregnancy test into a ball, tossing it in the trash upon arriving home. Every month, at this time, she felt utterly drained. She skipped dinner, sinking onto the couch, drifting in and out of sleep, the constant ringing in her ears a torment. This hearing impairment, a disability in high society, was another reason Nathaniel despised her. How could he possibly want a child with her?

The wall clock chimed five. Nathaniel would return in an hour. Only at daybreak did Cecilia realize she’d slept through the night. She scrambled to prepare breakfast, fearing even a moment's delay. Nathaniel was meticulous, unforgiving of tardiness. Once, when Cecilia had attended her father's funeral and returned late, he'd ignored her for a month.

At six, Nathaniel arrived, impeccably dressed, his tall, slender figure radiating restrained elegance. His handsome features were striking, yet cold in Cecilia's eyes. Without looking at her, he pulled out a chair. "You don't need to make breakfast anymore."

Cecilia was startled. An unexpected humility surfaced. "Did I do something wrong?"

Nathaniel looked up, his gaze meeting hers for the first time in three years. His lips parted slightly. "I want a wife, not a housekeeper."

For three years, Cecilia had worn the same light gray clothes, responded with a single "okay." If not for the business alliance and the Smiths' deception, Nathaniel wouldn't have married her. She wasn't his match. I want a wife, not a housekeeper. The ringing in Cecilia's ears intensified. A lump formed in her throat, yet she uttered the word Nathaniel hated most: "Okay."

Nathaniel felt unusually irritable, his favorite breakfast suddenly bland. He stood, pushing back his chair, ready to leave. To his surprise, Cecilia reached for his hand. "Nathaniel, is there someone you like?"

His eyes darkened. "What do you mean?"

Cecilia looked up at the man she'd loved for twelve years, her husband of three. Swallowing the bitterness, remembering Paula's words, she began, "Nathaniel, if there's someone you like, you can be with—"

He cut her off. "You're crazy."

After Nathaniel left, Cecilia stood alone on the balcony, watching the rain. Even after twelve years, she didn't understand him. The rain's sound was sometimes clear, sometimes muffled. A month ago, the doctor had delivered a grim diagnosis: "Ms. Smith, your auditory nerves and central nervous system have undergone pathological changes, leading to further hearing loss."

"Isn't there a treatment?"

The doctor shook his head. "Long-term sensorineural hearing loss doesn't respond well to medication. Continue using your hearing aid."

There was no cure. She removed her hearing aid. A strange tranquility settled over Cecilia. She wasn't used to silence. In the living room, she turned the television to maximum volume; only then could she faintly hear the interview with Stella Ross, the internationally acclaimed singer, back in the country. Cecilia's hand trembled, not just from the volume, but because Stella was Nathaniel's first love. Years later, she remained beautiful, confident, no longer the shy girl who once sought the Smiths' financial support. When asked why she returned, Stella declared boldly, "I came back to reclaim my first love."

The remote slipped from Cecilia's hand, her heart sinking. The rain intensified. She feared Stella would take Nathaniel. Even as the cherished Smith daughter, she hadn't been able to outshine Stella. Now, Stella was an international star. Cecilia panicked, turning off the television, cleaning the untouched breakfast. In the kitchen, she found Nathaniel's phone. Unlocking it, she saw an unread message.