The Silent Womb's Revenge

Chapter 5

Morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow across the bedroom. Sophia Williams stirred awake, realizing it was already late.

She dragged her exhausted body out of bed and stepped into the hallway just as Ethan Sullivan pushed open the front door. Dressed in a tailored suit, he carefully cradled a paper bag in his hands.

"Sweetheart, I went out of my way to get your favorite steamed shrimp dumplings," he said, offering the bag like a prized possession. It was still warm. "I kept them close so they wouldn’t get cold."

Sophia recognized the packaging instantly. It was their unspoken ritual—whenever Ethan upset her, he’d bring these dumplings to make amends. Truthfully, she didn’t even like them that much, but she couldn’t bear to see him fret.

So what was he apologizing for this time?

"Sweetheart, did you see my messages?" Ethan’s gaze flickered nervously. "When did you wake up?"

"Just now." She took the bag and mechanically unwrapped it. She wouldn’t punish herself just to spite him.

Ethan visibly relaxed and turned to pour a glass of water. "Eat first. I’ll check a few emails."

Sophia unlocked her phone. A new post from Victoria Taylor’s social media glared back at her:

[Mentioned craving shrimp dumplings, and he went to get them right away. So lucky~]

The dumplings in the photo had the exact same packaging as the ones in her hands.

Ethan’s phone buzzed. He glanced down, and his lips curled into an unconscious smile.

Sophia refreshed the page. Two new comments appeared under the post:

Ethan Sullivan: [You’re welcome.]

Margaret Sullivan: [That’s how a real man treats his woman. Unlike some who just take up space.]

Sophia looked up just in time to catch Ethan’s lingering smirk, his entire demeanor radiating smug satisfaction.

With a sharp tap, Sophia blocked Margaret on every platform. She’d wanted to do this for a long time.

Ethan’s phone suddenly rang. He answered, his expression darkening instantly. "Mom, calm down—what? Sophia blocked you?"

He frowned at her. "Mom wanted to bring you some herbal tonic—"

"No thanks," Sophia cut him off. "I’ve had enough of her remedies."

"But you can’t just—"

Sophia shoved her phone toward him. The screen displayed Margaret’s last message:

[You couldn’t even keep a baby. What use are you to our family? Seven months and you still lost it. What a curse!]

It was from their first year of marriage, when Sophia had suffered a miscarriage at seven months. She’d been shattered, and Ethan had stayed by her side day and night, whispering, "It’s not your fault."

But now, Ethan sighed. "Mom’s getting older. Her words are harsh, but you should try to understand—"

"Understand?" Sophia’s voice trembled. "Who understood me?"

"That’s not what I meant." He rubbed his temples. "But miscarriages don’t just happen. Did you eat something you shouldn’t have—"

Sophia’s tears spilled over. Back then, she’d been so careful—avoiding even skincare products, living in constant fear—and still, it hadn’t been enough.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that." Ethan hastily grabbed tissues.

But Sophia wasn’t listening anymore. The truth crashed over her—deep down, he’d always blamed her. All those comforting words? Just empty lies.