Lost Me Gained Regret

Hearing that, I paused, slightly taken aback.

Mark was more attentive than I had remembered.

During dinner, some of the raw meats we had for our fondue had a bit of a gamey smell, which made me feel a bit queasy, but I forced myself to keep it down.

I hadn't expected him to notice.

I offered a faint smile, "A little, but it's nothing."

"That's good. Health comes first."

There was a certain depth to Mark's words, as if imparting a life lesson, "Whatever happens, you've got to look after yourself first.

"Will do.

My heart warmed at his concern.

But it was only later that I truly understood the weight of his words.

As the car slowly made its way into the underground parking of Riverview Estate, Mark helped me out, and I couldn't shake off a feeling of unease, although a quick look around didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary.

Just as we were about to enter the building, a Maybach zoomed past, its driver seemingly engulfed in a towering rage.

I jumped, instinctively covering my belly and stepping back. If Mark hadn't steadied me, I might have fallen.

After making sure I was okay, Mark's gaze followed the car, a hint of ice creeping into his usually warm gaze. "Completely insane."

"Must be some emergency," I guessed, trying to calm my racing heart. Thankfully, I hadn't fallen.

Ever since I found out I was pregnant, my first thought in any situation long as the baby was okay, nothing else seemed to matter much.

n was of the baby. As After making sure I was settled in, Mark went down to the supermarket and came back with some popsicles, reminding me to apply cold compresses to my swollen ankles and to avoid walking too much before he left, seemingly reluctant to say more.

I slowly made my way to the balcony's lounge chair, noticing my ankles had swollen up. I immediately started with the cold compress.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Today is just not my day. I'm hurt from head to toe.

I chuckled wryly at the irony as I looked out at the river below, wondering if I'd be able to make it to work tomorrow. Holding a popsicle in one hand and scrolling through social media on my phone with the other, I eventually drifted off to sleep under a blanket.

In my drowsy state, I vaguely heard knocking at the door.

It was soft and infrequent.

As I came to, considering whether to check who it was, the knocking stopped.

The intermittent sound, in the dead of night, sent chills down my spine.

Gathering courage, I was about to get up and peek through the peephole when a familiar, albeit slightly slurred, voice came through the door.

"Jane, Jane." It was Bryant's voice.

My anxiety eased, replaced by a mix of irritation and resignation. Thankfully, after icing my ankle and resting it for a few hours, I could manage to stand.

But the person outside was losing patience.

Limping to the door, I heard the sound of the keypad beeping in error filling the air.

"Password incorrect."

"Password incorrect."

"Password incorrect."

Bryant was clearly getting frustrated.

As I opened the door, I saw him leaning lazily against the frame, his long fingers still attempting to press the keypad.

Seeing the door open, a moment of sobriety flashed across his drunken face.

Without a word, just staring, as if trying to see into my soul.

The smell of alcohol wafted in, making me step back, puzzled, "What are you doing here?" In any typical drama, he should have been woding Margaret, spending the evening in a romantic dinner, not showing up at my doorstep, drunk.

He glanced around the entryway, his voice cool. "Where is he?"