I Escaped His Love Trap

Right after I had my uterine scraping procedure, Ian called. "Construction on Tina's new home officially starts today. I'm going over to keep an eye on things, so don't wait for me for dinner. "You're on your period today. Don't wander around outside for too long. Go home and get some rest." I touched my flat stomach and couldn't speak for a long time. All this time, Ian and Tina had been the design firm's poster children. One was a specialist in hard finishes, while the other was a prodigy in soft furnishings. Even our marital home had been designed by the two of them working together. But every time we discussed the plans, Ian would pull out another set of blueprints he had painstakingly refined and patiently explain to Tina the entire hardscape design he had created specifically for her new home. Every detail was a perfect replica of the dream house he and I had once imagined together. "Tina lives alone, and the house is small. Designing it for her is no big deal. "Besides, you're not pregnant yet. Once we have a baby, we can renovate the entire house, including the nursery, all at once. It'll save us trouble." For the sake of 'saving us trouble,' I had waited three years in a house where not even the walls had been painted. All I got in return were Ian's repeated excuses and empty promises. He didn't even know I was pregnant. He had mistaken the symptoms of my threatened miscarriage for a normal period. Tina's flirty voice came through the phone. "Ian, don't slack off! Come help me double-check the measurements we left for the bathroom cabinets!" The call ended abruptly. I took a deep breath as I listened to the harsh beeping tone. After waiting three years for this unfinished house, I suddenly didn't want to wait anymore. Chapter 1 I, Julianna Warren, slowly pushed myself up against the wall. I rested a hand over my flat stomach as tears that had just stopped began falling again. To be honest, Ian should've known that I had miscarried. This morning, when I saw the steady flow of blood clots in the bathroom, I immediately asked Ian to take me to the hospital for an examination. At the time, he was sorting through some documents. When he looked at me, his brows furrowed slightly. "Why are you bleeding so much? Don't you even know how to deal with your period? "I don't have time to go to the hospital with you and watch you make a fool of yourself. Clean it up quickly. Don't get blood on the floor. "The house may not be renovated yet, but we still need to keep it clean." His first reaction when he saw me bleeding wasn't panic or concern. Instead, it was unmistakable disgust. Even the unfinished concrete floor, which hadn't even been tiled, seemed cleaner to him than my blood. I endured the pain and carefully wiped the blood from the floor. Just as I was about to put on my coat and ask Ian to take me to the hospital, Tina Stewart called. "Ian, I'd like some savory pastries and seafood chowder from Bright Moon Diner for breakfast. Could you take a detour and pick them up for me later? "You know I can't work on my designs without breakfast." Ian hadn't put the call on speaker, but Tina's clingy voice still came through loud and clear. I hurried forward and tried to stop Ian, but he merely glanced at me and pointed to the floor behind me. "It's dirty again." Those three words had me pinned to the spot. His tone was gentle as he responded to Tina's request. Although I was still bleeding, he walked out the door without even looking back. To him, picking up breakfast for Tina was probably more important. My phone vibrated. It instantly pulled me back to reality. My best friend, Ivy Jackson, had sent me a message. [Julianna, do you regret it?] She was referring to my decision to undergo the uterine scraping procedure. After a series of examinations at the hospital, I stared at the diagnosis of a threatened miscarriage on the report and found myself crying and laughing at the same time. Before I even had the chance to learn that I was pregnant, I had already lost the baby. The doctor had given me two options. One was to actively try to save the pregnancy, and the other was to forcefully terminate it. Thinking back to Ian's attitude and reaction before I left home, I barely hesitated before choosing the latter. [I have no regrets. I feel completely relieved now.] Ivy immediately sent me three thumbs-up emojis. [You finally see the truth.] [So what now? Are you still going to work at the design firm?] [You've been working in the operations department for years, and every piece of promotional content you made was about Ian and Tina. You should've been sick of it long ago.] I paused and opened the promotional posts I had worked on previously. Every headline I submitted had been rejected and sent back for rewriting because Tina wasn't satisfied with it. Eventually, Tina took over writing the headlines herself. [Your Industry-Certified, All-Star Architecture and Design Duo!] There were countless headlines like that, each filled with phrases like 'industry-certified' and 'design duo.' Many netizens had even created a dedicated fan community for the two of them, promoting them as the most perfectly matched couple of the 21st century. Once I had composed myself, I replied to Ivy's messages. [It doesn't matter if I'm sick of it anymore.] [My application for an interior design training program was approved. I'll be leaving South City soon.] My post-operative observation period was over. A nurse approached and softly told me I could leave. Before I left, she patted my shoulder sympathetically. "Ms. Warren, next time you have a procedure, make sure you have a family member accompany you. "Especially since you're still weak. You shouldn't leave the hospital alone. "What's your husband's phone number? I can contact him for you." She was already reaching for her phone when I smiled and gently pressed her hand down. "I don't have a husband. Thank you for your concern. I'll take good care of myself from here on out." Chapter 2 On the way home, I received multiple notifications from my Instagram feed. Tina posted several photos in a row to celebrate that construction on her new home had finally begun. Apart from that, she also included a photo of herself with Ian right in the center. She even added a heart filter to it. [Special thanks to Ian for all his support! Our beautiful home wouldn't be possible without him!] The comments flooded in. [I heard Mr. Jensen turned down several projects that had already been confirmed just to design Tina's new home!] [Of course! Mr. Jensen has practically been living at the office lately. He's working on designs for Tina the moment he wakes up!] [No wonder they're both considered the best of the best in interior design. They're always equally dedicated and responsible when it comes to their work!] I scrolled through the posts expressionlessly. Every single rendered design was painfully familiar. From the lighting strips in the bedroom to the materials and style of the TV feature wall, every detail was exactly what I had repeatedly described to Ian. Ian had taken the dream home I had envisioned and handed it completely intact to another woman. After sitting in silence for a long while, I liked all of Tina's posts. Just as I was about to exit the app, a coworker messaged me. [Julianna, could you send us the design plans for your house so we can use them as a reference?] [Mr. Jensen is so talented. I'm sure he designed your home beautifully!] I snorted on the inside. When we first got married, all our friends envied me for having a husband who was a renowned interior designer. "That's Ian, the specialist in hard finishes! I heard he can recreate anyone's dream home. It must be so wonderful living with him!" "Julianna, you really struck gold marrying him. You don't have to worry about renovating your house anymore!" Back then, I had naively believed the same thing. But when we moved into our marital home, I stared at the exposed walls, concrete floors, and pipes running everywhere. For a moment, I thought I had walked into the wrong house. Ian, however, acted as if it were perfectly normal. For the first year, we simply lived in the unfinished house because it was convenient for work. During that time, I brought up renovating the house countless times, but Ian always brushed me off. "Julianna, once we have a baby, we can renovate the entire house and the nursery together. It'll save us trouble. "I've seen countless cases where people renovate their homes, only to dislike the results and tear everything down to start over." He wrapped his arms around me and spoke with such sincerity that I believed him. "A house is where you'll live for the rest of your life. If you end up unhappy with the renovation, you'll have to live with that regret for the rest of your life too. "We'll talk about it when the time comes." That one sentence, 'we'll talk about it when the time comes,' got me through the first year. But during the second year's rainy season, I could no longer tolerate the dampness and stifling heat caused by the walls being left without waterproofing. I brought up the renovation again, but this time, Ian could barely even be bothered to pretend. He began using his heavy workload as an excuse to avoid my questions. It was also around that time that Ian started coming home less and less. We worked at the same design firm. I was in operations, while he was in the design department. We should've gone home together after work every day, but Ian began living at the company residence instead. My coworkers said he was handling too many projects and tried to persuade me to be understanding, but I wasn't blind. I saw him entering and leaving the design firm's apartment with Tina. I saw them shopping for furniture together, and I saw him working late into the night countless times, all just to revise Tina's design drafts. I took several deep breaths before opening my camera and taking a few photos of the empty space around me. I then sent them to my coworker. [Sorry, but I'm afraid this house won't give you much of a reference.] [Because Ian and I don't have any design plans for our house. It's also never been renovated.] Chapter 3 The next morning, I was jolted awake by my phone vibrating. The photos I sent had been shared multiple times and eventually reached the design firm's internal group chat. Before I could even read the messages, an administrator deleted them all. I opened the list of administrators. There was only one administrator, and it was Ian. The next second, my phone rang. "Julianna, are you done yet? "Just because I was a little stern with you before I left yesterday, you're going to retaliate like this?" Ian sounded exhausted. He'd probably been smoking all night. I gathered myself. "I don't have the energy to retaliate against you, and I'm not in the mood either. "Ian, I was simply stating a fact. "How other people choose to perceive it and talk about it is beyond my control." There was a long silence on the other end. Just as I was about to lose patience, Ian finally spoke. "Julianna, I know you've been holding a grudge for the past three years. "Don't worry. I'll start planning the design for our marital home in the next few days. "But before that–" A trace of unmistakable authority entered his voice. "You need to apologize publicly in the group and explain that you were only joking around with me. "After all, Tina and I are jointly responsible for the design of our marital home. Your behavior has seriously damaged Tina's reputation." A lighter clicked on from the other end of the call. There was an inexplicable hint of amusement in Ian's voice. "Don't worry. As soon as you apologize, I'll immediately respond in the group and forgive you. "Julianna, I won't let you embarrass yourself in front of everyone." I couldn't help but chuckle. This was the man who had made countless promises to give me a warm home. "Ian, I'm not the one who should apologize. "There's no need to design this house anymore. Let's get a divorce." With that, I hung up and immediately contacted the project coordinator at the design firm. "Hello. Due to a change in circumstances, I'd like to terminate the design project for this house. "Ms. Warren, are you sure? According to our policy, the deposit is non-refundable once the project has been terminated." The coordinator was clearly surprised and added, "You've been following up on the planning of this project for the past three years. Our records show that you've visited the firm nearly sixty times. "The project has already begun, and the designers responsible for it are two of the most accomplished designers at our firm." "Keep the deposit. Terminate the project," I interrupted softly. "Three years. Nearly sixty follow-ups, and I still never got a response. There's no reason for this project to continue." The coordinator paused before finally giving up on trying to persuade me. The moment the call ended, a loud crash came from the front door. Ian slammed it shut. He then stormed into the bedroom and yanked me to my feet. "Julianna, are you done yet? "You refused to apologize, and now you're trying to use divorce to threaten me?" His fingers clamped tightly around my shoulders, almost crushing my bones. "Do you know what everyone at the firm is saying now? Tina cried all night because of this. "You just had to cause trouble on the day she was moving into her new home. You know exactly what you're trying to accomplish!" His grip made my shoulders ache and go numb. Compared to the pain of the uterine scraping, however, it barely registered. I clenched my jaw, pried his fingers away, and pulled out a divorce agreement. "This isn't a threat. "Ian, I've really decided to divorce you." His expression froze. "When did you prepare these documents?" I didn't answer, but I remembered it clearly. The day my final attempt to move forward with the design of our marital home failed, I walked out of the design firm and, with trembling hands, contacted a lawyer to draft the divorce agreement. I had kept it all this time partly because I wanted to give myself time to calm down. But more than that, I had been waiting for a response from Ian. Instead, he had immediately gone to help Tina oversee construction and was completely indifferent to my miscarriage. When I didn't respond, Ian softened his tone. "Julianna, don't use divorce to throw a tantrum. "I've already started working on the design plans for our home. This time, I won't make you wait. "Tina is coming over later to do an on-site assessment. Just apologize to her in the group and make her feel better." As soon as he finished speaking, a sweet voice came from outside the door. Chapter 4 "Julianna! I'm here to help you with the assessment for soft furnishings!" The moment Tina stepped inside, she naturally looped her arm through Ian's. Her gaze landed on the documents nearby, and she paused. "Julianna, are you going to divorce Ian?" I ignored her question and looked sternly at the keys in her hand. A safety charm I had given Ian was hanging from them. "How do you have the keys to my house?" Tina's face went pale, and her eyes immediately welled with tears. "Julianna, are you still angry because Ian went to oversee the construction at my place instead of coming home to keep you company? "I'm sorry. Please don't let me cause any disagreements between you and Ian–" "Tina, this isn't your fault. You don't need to apologize to her." Ian rubbed his brows and gently sheltered Tina behind him. "Julianna, you're not a three-year-old anymore. There should be a limit to throwing a tantrum. "Tina is your designer for soft furnishings. She needs the house keys so she can come here and do an on-site assessment for the design. "Overseeing her construction site is also part of my job." I looked at the stern-looking man in front of me and almost found myself swayed by his earnest tone again. He always had a way of making everything he did to hurt me sound completely justified. Ian didn't bother observing my reaction. He took Tina by the hand and began showing her around the house. "Ian, what do you think about turning this east-facing room into a walk-in closet? It gets the best light! "And what about this guest room? It would make such a great study! We could work on our designs here together!" The east-facing room was the one I had specifically reserved for the nursery. The guest room was the room Ian had originally prepared for my parents when they came to South City to visit me. Now, he looked at the woman in front of him with warmth in his eyes, smiled, and nodded. "Whatever you want." Although I had already canceled the design project, I still couldn't tolerate Ian rubbing salt in my wounds by indulging Tina again and again. "Ian, is this the so-called renovation plan you two came up with? "If this is how you take on design projects, the firm will go bankrupt sooner or later." Tina's fingers trembled as she made notes on the design plans. When she spoke again, her voice was already choked with tears. "Julianna, I was just giving my opinion. It's okay if you don't like it–" Before I could respond, Ian pursed his lips and spoke in a cold voice. "Tina is a professional designer. Her suggestions are valuable. "You're not even pregnant yet. What's wrong with turning the nursery into a walk-in closet? "And your parents hardly ever come to South City. Turning the guest room into a study makes perfect sense. "Julianna, if you don't want to take our suggestions, fine. But do you really have to be so aggressive?" His expression darkened as he immediately picked up a pen and began altering the design. Every stroke was deliberately heavy. The tip of the pen scraped across the paper with an abrasive sound. A moment later, every detail on the blueprint had been changed according to Tina's wishes. Ian dropped the pen and tossed the blueprint at my face. "We're going with this renovation plan. The construction crew will be here tomorrow. "If you have any more complaints, get out and find somewhere else to live." It wasn't until the heavy sound of the door closing echoed through the house that I finally smiled in relief. I pulled out my suitcase and packed my clothes one by one. I then placed the signed divorce agreement, the diagnosis report, and the uterine scraping record on the living room table. After that, I booked a flight. I took one last look at the empty, desolate house before pulling my suitcase behind me and walking away.