That night, Vincent came home drunk. He pinned me under him without protection. The next morning, he shoved a handful of pills into my hand.
“You have no right to carry my child. Even if you ever got pregnant by accident, I’d make sure it never sees the light of day.”
And now his wish had come true.
He forced me to donate blood to his mistress and because of that, I lost my child.
Yet he lit up the whole city with fireworks to celebrate hers.
I wept silently. After the IV was finished, I signed my discharge papers and went home.
Passing through the backyard, I found myself standing beneath the wisteria tree, its blooms were in full glory. Without realizing it, I sat beneath it for hours.
By evening, Vincent returned with Sable in tow.
Spotting me under the tree, he paused.
Sable’s eyes glimmered as she said sweetly, “Vincent, this wisteria is thriving. Should we cut it down and make a good luck charm for our baby? But… I heard Andrea planted this tree herself.” She paused, then looked at me with fake sweetness. “Would you mind, Andrea?”
This tree was one of the few beautiful memories Vincent and I shared.
My adoptive father had planted it for my adoptive mother–it was their symbol of lifelong love.
Four years ago, I transplanted it here from my hometown, digging the hole with my own hands.
Vincent once told me it wouldn’t survive. I seized that moment to bargain with him.
If I keep it alive and it blooms… would you consider loving me?”
He went quiet for a long time, then said, “I’ll think about it.”
it was the only sliver of hope he’d ever given me.
Since then, I’d cared for that tree more than anything else.
Once, his eighteenth mistress broke a single flower off it and I fought her like my life depended
on it.
Anyone who dared suggest cutting it down would’ve faced my full wrath.
But now, facing Sable’s provocation, I smiled faintly.
‘Go ahead. Cut it if you want.”
Vincent frowned, visibly displeased.
As I stood to leave, he stopped me. “You planted it,” he said coldly. “So you cut it. I don’t want you bringing this up later and blaming Sable for it.”
He wanted me to destroy my last sanctuary with my own hands.
I expected this, but my heart still trembled.
A servant handed me the chainsaw. My hands shook as I slowly severed the thick trunk.
The master bedroom. My mother’s keepsake. The baby. My faith….
20
5:36 pm D
Everything I had treasured was now just entertainment for Sable.
Vincent gazed at her indulgently. “Pick whichever piece you like. I’ll have it carved for you.”
Sable carefully selected a slender branch no thicker than a finger.
Vincent turned to the servants. “Clean up the rest. Throw it all in the trash.”
Trash. That’s what my love for him had amounted to.
Dropping the chainsaw, I numbly returned to my room.
That night, Damian texted me.
[A month is too long. I’m already back in the country. I’ll come get you in three days.]
I stared at the now–empty garden and typed my reply:
[Okay.]
Three days.
That was enough time to settle everything.
5:36 pm
