Perhaps realizing I had been in the restroom for too long, Zach, fearing something might have happened to me, stopped his flirtatious exchange with Laura. They both came to find me.

Seeing me bent over and clutching my chest, Zach and Laura hurriedly rushed to my side to help.

I pushed them away with all my might. "Get out! You both disgust me!"

Laura fell to the ground. She clutched her leg and screamed, "My leg! It hurts so much. Zach, do you think it's broken?"

Zach immediately knelt to inspect her leg.

She was crying pitifully, one hand on her leg and the other tugging at Zach's arm, shaking it gently. "Never mind, don't worry about me. Check on Nora first. I'll be fine. It's just a leg injury. I can see a doctor later."

"I'm OK. Don't worry about me first. You should see what's going on with Nora. I'll be fine alone. It's just a leg injury. I can see a doctor later."

Despite her words, she held onto Zach tightly.

"But I'm already carrying your child. Zach, I'm so scared something might happen to our baby..."

I looked at her pale face, frail body, and the slight tremble in her crying voice.

If I were a man, I would probably prioritize her, too.

"Nora, what's gotten into you?" Zach yelled at me.

He swept Laura up in his arms and left without a second glance.

Laura gave me a defiant look, silently mouthing, "Clown!"

I was indeed the clown, wasn't I?

We'd known each other for years, yet I was clueless about their affair.

I remembered how Laura and I used to mock Zach's lack of romance. I had thought she was on my side, concerned that Zach wouldn't take good care of me.

It seemed she was subtly showing off, telling me she knew Zach better than I did.

She probably didn't expect me to be so oblivious, never suspecting her.

But I couldn't figure it out—if she loved Zach, why did she never fight for him and remain friends with me?

I leaned against the wall until I felt better and then went straight home.

After scheduling an abortion online, I packed up and checked into a hotel.

I had nowhere else to go.

My mother, like me, had poor health and died from a massive hemorrhage when she gave birth to me.

My father remarried later.

At first, I was well-fed and clothed. But then, my stepmother had her own children.

I started doing all the housework and eating leftovers, only eating well when my father was home.