Don't Say You Love Me

My daughter is gravely ill, and her medical bills cost a bomb. My husband gives up on treating her. Then, he turns and runs into the arms of his childhood sweetheart, Chelsea Davies.

Amid my despair, my first love, Elliot Cox, transfers five million dollars to my account. He cares for my daughter with me. However, my daughter ultimately fails to escape death.

Six years later, Elliot and I have our own child. When I head to the hospital to visit one of my friends, I accidentally hear Elliot's conversation with a doctor.

"You and Ms. Baxter have your own child now, Mr. Cox. What if she finds out the truth of what happened back then?"

"Chelsea was gravely ill at the time; I had no choice but to pull some tricks to have the child's heart transplanted to her. Besides, Holly's pregnant again now, isn't she? It's high time she lets go and moves on."

Only then do I discover that my daughter was misdiagnosed on purpose. Elliot took her heart and had it transplanted in Chelsea's body.

Upon hearing this, tears slid down my face silently.

So, the baby in my belly right now wasn't the product of love between me and Elliot Cox. It was just a token of atonement.

The six years of feelings were just a charade for Elliot. It was all for the sake of his one true love, Chelsea Davies.

I gently touched my slightly rounded belly, smiling bitterly.

Six years ago, I couldn't save my daughter. Now, I didn't want to continue this doomed entanglement either.

In the hospital office, the doctor sighed softly, his tone carrying a hint of regret. "Alright, Mr. Cox. But is this really worth it? Chelsea is already married. You should move on with your life. After all, Ms. Baxter loves you so much. She's a good woman."

Elliot just paused for a moment before replying with conviction, "Why wouldn't it be worth it? I don't care about titles or labels. As long as I can stay by Chelsea's side, that's good enough for me. She can love whoever she wants. I just want her to be healthy and happy.

"As for Holly… Yes, she's wonderful. She's a great wife, and she'll be a great mother. But unfortunately, I don't love her. Love isn't something you can force."

Hearing Elliot say this, the doctor shook his head and didn't press further. "Ms. Baxter's pregnancy is unstable. She's had a hard life. She already lost one child. This time, please treat her and the baby well."

There was a long silence before Elliot finally responded with a soft hum.

I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound.

It wasn't until Elliot and the doctor left that I finally allowed myself to break down and cry.

So, my newborn daughter hadn't died of illness after all. Elliot had bribed the doctor to misdiagnose her just so Chelsea could have a fresh, healthy heart.

Back then, when my daughter had been diagnosed with a severe illness and admitted to the ICU, my husband at the time, Joshua Grant, hadn't wanted to deal with the burden.

He had walked away from the hospital and straight into the arms of his childhood sweetheart, Chelsea.

Elliot had been the only light in my life at the time.

But looking back now, he had only offered his so-called help to ensure that Chelsea's heart was taken care of.

After I had divorced Joshua, Elliot had married me, probably just out of guilt.

When I stepped out of the hospital, it was pouring.

I didn't call a cab. I staggered forward in the downpour, completely drenched. I allowed the rain to mix with my tears. I had long since lost count of how many times I had cried.

By the time I got home, the housekeeper saw the sorry state I was in and rushed over.

"Mrs. Cox! Why didn't you call the driver? You're still pregnant. Getting soaked like this isn't good for you!"

Hearing the commotion, Elliot walked out of his study. Seeing my red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair, a flicker of distress flashed across his face. He put down his mug of coffee and scooped me up in his arms.

His voice carried a hint of reproach as he said, "You're about to be a mother. How can you still be this reckless? What if you catch a cold? Worse yet, what if something happens to the baby? I don't even know what to say to you."

I glanced at him and murmured under my breath, "Elliot, I've been a mother before. I don't need you to teach me. If the baby dies, then so be it. It's not like I haven't lost a child before."

Elliot's steps faltered.

He frowned tightly but, in the end, said nothing.

The bathtub had already been filled with hot water. Elliot moved to help me undress, but I pushed him away.

He looked at me suspiciously as if wondering why I was acting so differently. After a long standoff, he finally left the bathroom.

I scrubbed myself over and over again with body wash, trying to wash away every last trace of Elliot's presence from my skin.