Chapter 152 Pregnant?
"Isabella was beside herself with rage. "If you don't care about him, then divorce him. What purpose does clinging to him serve?" she spat.
"The purpose is mine to determine," Ava shot back, her hand protectively cradling her abdomen. Her gaze was calm and steady as it met Isabella's. She was confident that Isabella didn't possess the endurance to keep her cornered indefinitely.
Isabella, noticing a glimmer of triumph in Ava's eyes, couldn't suppress a laugh. "Poor Ava. Devoid of your husband's love, you're left with nothing but obstinate denials. What's the point? It's a hollow victory. In truth, it's me whom Alex cherishes. Do you recognize the piano piece he plays? He composed it for me."
Ava's expression hardened, her eyes becoming still, deep pools.
"He promised to play it at our wedding, a performance dedicated solely to me. It's unfortunate we didn't marry, but he vowed to compose new pieces for me in the future."
A heavy burden seemed to drag Ava's heart over a precipice.
She remembered Alex guiding her to the piano, whispering, "Ava, this piece is for you."
His slender fingers danced across the keys, weaving a spell, and she had believed that this melody was their own private serenade, a gift from Alexander to her. But now, she realized it was originally crafted for Isabella.
Perhaps he had played it for her as a way to soothe his longing when Isabella was absent.
Later, he declined to play it, perhaps because he couldn't bear to perform it for anyone other than Isabella.
Now that Isabella had returned, he was free to publicly reclaim this piece, to once again play what was intended for Isabella.
It seemed she had nothing, not even a piano composition. It was all an illusion.
"Ava, get a grip," Isabella taunted. "To Alex, you're insignificant. Clinging to this doomed marriage is merely you squandering your youth. Alex and I, we're unshakeable. Your marriage, however, is nothing but a facade."
A wave of melancholy swept over Ava, so profound it seemed to echo within the tiny life inside her.
So much for a marriage in name only. She and Alexander had created a life together, and now it had come to this—a farce.
Perhaps the heartache was too overwhelming. Suddenly, Ava's stomach roiled violently, and she dashed to the restroom stall, hunched over the toilet as she vomited.
Isabella hesitated at the bathroom door, her expression taut with worry.
After Ava had finished and flushed the toilet, she finally emerged and rinsed her mouth at the sink.
"What's wrong with you? Why did you vomit?" Isabella asked, her voice laced with anxiety.
Ava, her face pale, retorted with a hint of sarcasm, "Oh, are you concerned about me now?"
"I couldn't care less about you—don't tell me… you're not pregnant, are you?" Isabella's mind was a whirlwind of implications.
A wry smile tugged at Ava's lips. "Are you frightened of me being pregnant? Afraid Alex will rush back to me and abandon whatever you believe you have?"
"Ha, in your dreams," Isabella burst out laughing. "Even if you are pregnant, Alex would insist you terminate it. So, are you, or aren’t you?"
Ava shook the water from her hands and faced her. "What does it matter to you? Move out of my way. Just imagine—if I really am pregnant and I tell Alex, who can foresee the consequences?"
She turned to leave.
"Hold on," Isabella reached out, gripping Ava's arm. "Are you pregnant or not?"
