The Rusted Ring

The cold scent of disinfectant pierced my nostrils as my fingers trembled slightly, clutching the appointment slip. This was my third visit to this hospital. The previous two times, I had backed out at the last moment. The nurse took the appointment slip, glanced at me briefly, and said flatly, "Claire Sinclair, right? Come at 9 a.m. tomorrow on an empty stomach, accompanied by a family member." I tugged at the corner of my mouth, forcing a smile more painful than tears. The person who should be by my side as a family member might now be busy with another woman. My phone vibrated slightly; it was a message from my best friend, accompanied by a screenshot. The screenshot was a financial news alert with a headline that caught my eye: Scott Group invests one billion to fully acquire IYL Maternal and Infant Products Company. The contact person listed under the acquiring party was Ethan Scott. IYL, the maternal and baby brand Wanda Sullivan had mentioned several times. My fingertips went icy cold; I could barely hold onto the phone. Just last night, Ethan Scott sat on the sofa, a cigarette between his fingers, and said to me coldly, "Abort the child. We're not in a position to have a baby right now." At that moment, I still clung to the last shred of hope and asked him why. He didn't even look at me, simply saying, "Wanda's health isn't good. I need to take better care of her." I understood then. It wasn't that he didn't want a child, just that he didn't want a child born from me. I walked out of the hospital; the autumn wind was cold, sending a chill through my whole body. Ten years of marriage, like a long and tedious movie, now played slowly in my mind. Ethan Scott and I met on the university campus. At that time, he was a clean-cut young man, wearing a white shirt, standing under the camphor tree; his smile reminded people of the summer breeze. I pursued him for an entire year. For his sake, I rejected the marriage proposals arranged by my family and sulked with my parents for days. On graduation day, he proposed to me beneath the camphor tree, holding a simple silver ring. He said, "Claire, from now on I will take good care of you and treat you well for a lifetime." I believed it. In the third year of our marriage, Ethan Scott's company was still in its infancy and faced malicious suppression from competitors. That night, as we left the hotel after a social event, someone charged at us with a knife, targeting Ethan Scott. Without hesitation, I stepped in front of him. The blade cut across my back, the pain nearly causing me to faint. When I collapsed into his arms, I saw the panic and worry in his eyes. At that moment, I felt everything was worth it. But I never imagined that would be the last time I saw such raw emotion in his eyes. After the wound healed, it left a long scar. Ethan Scott rarely mentioned that day again; he just hired a nanny for me so I could rest at home with peace of mind. I thought that was his way of caring for me. Until Wanda Sullivan appeared. Wanda Sullivan is Ethan Scott's childhood friend. It is said she was often sick as a child, and Ethan always took care of her. The day she returned to the country, Ethan deliberately canceled our wedding anniversary dinner to pick her up at the airport. I waited until late at night, only to be met with his drunken smell and a careless "I forgot". Since then, Ethan Scott became increasingly busy. He no longer came home for dinner, no longer shared interesting stories from the company with me, and rarely spoke to me.