The Wife He Forgot to Love Chapter 02

The Wife He Forgot to Love Chapter 02

They trained together in school, but Ethan’s family situation forced him to stop competing, while Vivian kept chasing her soccer dreams.

They’d been apart—at least publicly—for years.

So he wasn’t born cold and distant.

He’d once fought against his family with everything he had.

He’d learned unfamiliar things from scratch, just for one person.

And he’d be there for her, without hesitation, every single time she needed him.

I sat by the window, scrolling through my phone in agitation.

I came across an old photo of myself commentating a soccer match.

And suddenly, it hit me: Ethan and I first got close right after that very game I’d commentated.

So it was all there from the start.

He was just using me as a substitute.

Then what were these five years between us supposed to be? My stomach churned, and I rushed to the bathroom, but nothing came up.

That day, he never came home. Just a text about being tied up with business.

And I stood in the hospital corridor, clutching a report, not knowing what to do.

I was pregnant.

What a perfect day. What perfect news.

But this baby’s timing was all wrong.

Or rather, the state of our relationship was all wrong.

I didn’t tell Ethan right away.

He stayed busy—with the company, with Vivian’s games.

Sometimes I’d catch him in financial news interviews, calm and composed, the flawless Mr. Hartwell to the outside world.

But I knew he had another side.

The side that belonged to Vivian.

That weekend, Ethan’s aunt—co-chair of the Hartwell Family Foundation—invited me for afternoon tea.

The venue was a members-only club in the city, surrounded by old money in custom-tailored suits.

His aunt cut into her scone, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather:

“Evelyn, you and Ethan have been married for two years now.”

“The foundation trustees have been discussing the next generation of succession lately.”

“You know how these family institutions are—all about continuity.”

She looked up at me with a polished smile.

“I’m not rushing you, but if you and Ethan have any plans—”

“Sooner is better. For everyone’s sake.”

I gripped my teacup, my knuckles going white.

“Continuity” sounded like corporate strategy, but I knew what she really meant:

The old gossip about Ethan and Vivian was resurfacing in certain circles.

A child was the cleanest way to shut down all that chatter.

I smiled and said, “We’ll think about it.”

She didn’t press further.

After his aunt left, I got a call from Ethan.

“I’ve got a dinner thing tonight. Won’t be home.”

“Okay.”

I hung up and opened social media.

Vivian’s fan page had posted candid shots.

A rooftop barbecue at the club—Vivian and her teammates laughing, raising their glasses. Ethan sat beside her, head tilted, listening with focused attention.

That wasn’t a business dinner.

That was her victory party.

That day was our wedding anniversary, and he hadn’t sent me a single message.

I touched my still-flat stomach, and a chill settled deep inside me.

My morning sickness was getting worse by the day.

I’d wake up retching, lose my appetite, and my whole body was thinning out fast.

Ethan finally noticed something was off.

“Are you feeling sick? Should you see a doctor?” His concern sounded like a box he was checking off.

“It’s nothing. Probably just a stomach bug.”

I avoided his gaze.

He nodded and didn’t press further.

The next morning, I woke up in pain.

When I went to the bathroom, I noticed a small dark stain on my underwear.

I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, then opened my phone and searched “brown discharge during early pregnancy.”

The results: “May indicate a threatened miscarriage. Please seek medical attention.”

I got dressed and went to the hospital alone.

In the ultrasound room, the doctor stared at the screen for a long moment, frowning.

“The gestational sac looks irregular, and the fetal heartbeat is weak.”

“I’ll prescribe some progesterone to support the pregnancy. Bed rest for a week, then we’ll do a follow-up.”

I walked out of the office with the prescription, sat down on a bench in the hallway.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Ethan: “I have a business trip this week. Take care of yourself.”

I knew the World Cup finals were starting soon.

Vivian’s favorite team had made it through.

I felt another cramp in my lower abdomen just thinking about it.