Cool Lady 1

The day Clara Westwood was scheduled for surgery was New Year’s Eve. Outside the window, fireworks blazed, brilliant and beautiful. But Clara was alone. A needle was inserted into her right hand, and she followed the nurse, handling the paperwork for the surgery, her face marked with faint signs of exhaustion and weariness. Before entering the operating room, she tried to contact her husband, Francis Pierce. “Can you come to the hospital…” Before she could finish, she heard their son, Wesley Pierce, grab the phone. “Mommy, Daddy is going to watch fireworks with me tonight. The fireworks are so beautiful! Mommy, don’t disturb Daddy and me, okay?” The phone went dead with a series of beeps. Clara bit her lip, lowered her eyes to hide the disappointment in her gaze. After giving herself a silent pep talk, she prepared to enter the operating room. Suddenly, her phone buzzed twice. Thinking it was a message from Wesley or Francis, Clara quickly unlocked her phone. But in the next moment, a chill ran through her veins. “It’s so wonderful to have you all this New Year’s Eve. I wish every year could be like this.” The message was from Natalie Dawson’s social media. There was a photo attached. Clara zoomed in, her heart racing as she saw the three of them, closely embracing, with a grand display of fireworks in the background. She wasn’t sure how she called Francis, but when his cold voice came through, it snapped her back to reality. Gripping the phone tightly, she asked, “Where are you?” There was a long pause. Clara could clearly hear the pounding of her own heartbeat, like the rhythm of a drum. When Francis finally spoke, his words felt distant, yet unexpectedly gentle. “Wesley and I will celebrate with you on New Year’s Day.” He clearly knew she had figured it out but refused to explain. Clara hung up the phone. The surgery went smoothly enough. Once the anesthesia wore off, Clara felt a sharp, cramping pain in her lower abdomen, and the ache made her back feel swollen and sore. She gently touched her abdomen, but her left hand, almost by instinct, unlocked the phone. On the screen was Natalie’s social media photo. Clara’s gaze locked onto the smiling face of the little boy in Natalie’s arms, his tiny hands tightly hugging her neck. He tilted his head, his gaze on a man beside her who looked somewhat like him, happily giving half a heart. Beside them stood Francis, smiling faintly. This was so different from the cold, aloof Francis she remembered. She had always thought Francis just didn’t smile. But looking at the photo, she realized he wasn’t incapable of smiling, he just didn’t smile for her. Clara shut her eyes. A sharp feeling of mockery spread like wildfire in her chest, burning away any remaining hope, leaving her heart barren. Her eyes stung, but no tears came. On New Year’s Eve, her husband and son had left her to celebrate with another woman. They weren’t a family anymore—they were more like a family than she would ever be. And there she was, as a wife and mother, alone in the hospital, enduring pain and fear from her surgery. Natalie was Francis’ first love. It was said that their love had been passionate, but she had gone abroad to chase her dreams, leaving room for Clara to marry into the Pierce family. Clara stayed for observation until three in the morning, finally allowed to leave. To her surprise, when she got home, Francis was sitting on the couch, holding Wesley, watching a live stream. She frowned instinctively and asked, “Wesley, why aren’t you asleep yet?” Wesley had been diagnosed with congenital heart disease at birth and spent two months in the ICU. After being discharged, he was found to have congenital asthma. Since then, Clara had paid special attention to his health. She would never allow him to stay up late. Her concern made her voice sound harsh, and Wesley, startled, immediately dropped the phone. The phone clattered to the floor near Clara’s feet. From her angle, she could clearly see the live stream on the phone’s screen. The host was Natalie. In that instant, Clara felt like she had been struck hard in the face. Her mind went blank. “You’re being too harsh. Tonight’s an exception.” Francis responded first, breaking the silence. He patted Wesley’s chest to calm him, then picked up the phone and turned off the screen. “Life isn’t a script.” But even with the screen off, the live stream’s audio continued. Natalie’s voice came through clearly. “I want to especially thank Wesley for creating such a beautiful New Year’s Eve for me. The fireworks were stunning, but his pure love is even more beautiful. Wesley, I love you. And a special thank you to the anonymous person who has been by my side for so long. Thank you, Mr. F.” Mr. F? Clara looked at Francis. His cold eyes softened, and his gaze rested on the phone’s black screen, as if she were a stranger standing across from him. It had always been like this. She stood by his side, lay beside him, but from the start, she had always been the backup plan. Clara watched as Francis gently brushed Wesley’s soft hair. Then she saw Wesley hug Francis’ arm, smiling sweetly, and her heart clenched. So, Francis had allowed Wesley to stay up late because of this exception! She liked fireworks too, but the ones she loved were the ones her son and husband had set off for another woman. After Natalie finished her thanks, the live stream ended. Only then did Francis glance at Clara. She looked down at Wesley. When Wesley saw her gaze, he finally remembered that she had scolded him earlier. He pouted and huffed, then ran upstairs, calling out, “Mommy, you’re so mean! I don’t like you!” “Wesley!” Just as Wesley’s voice trailed off, Francis’ cold tone interrupted. In the span of a few minutes, Wesley had been scolded by both parents. He sulked, pouting, and quickly ran upstairs. His retreating figure was swift and decisive, filled with deep resentment, and Clara felt a sharp sting in her heart. His childish, indifferent words echoed in her mind. She staggered back a step, suddenly feeling a sharp pain in her abdomen. She couldn’t help but bend over, clutching her stomach, her face paling. “What’s wrong?” Francis caught Clara, frowning. “You don’t look well.” He had noticed her pale face the moment she entered. Thinking of something, he asked, “Where did you go tonight?” Clara, startled by his question, stepped back, staring at the man she had loved for eight years. Tonight, on New Year’s Eve, she had undergone surgery. She had an ectopic pregnancy. Because Wesley wanted a little sister, she had pressured Francis for a second child. They had conceived, but the pregnancy had gone wrong. She didn’t want to hurt Francis and Wesley with this unexpected loss, so she secretly had the surgery, but no one cared about her feelings. “Francis, let’s get a divorce.” Clara was tired and no longer wanted to hold on. She had loved Francis for eight years, had been Mrs. Pierce for six, and had given birth to a son. Though her life had been ordinary, she had been content. It wasn’t until tonight that she realized that everything she had given was just one-sided. One-sided love meant one had to accept the consequences. After saying those words, she pressed her stomach and staggered toward the stairs. Francis’ face flashed with surprise, and he reached out to grab Clara’s sleeve, but just then, his phone rang. The ringtone made him freeze for a moment. Clara seized the chance to escape. He sighed and answered the phone, “Hello, Natalie.” … Clara swallowed two painkillers, and after a few minutes, the pain in her lower abdomen subsided. Lying quietly on the bed, Clara’s mind replayed everything from that night, and her thoughts inevitably wandered. She remembered how Francis and Wesley had favored Natalie and treated her with indifference. Her eyelids fluttered. Creak. The door creaked open, and Wesley stood at the door, awkwardly saying, “Mommy, Happy New Year.” Clara’s thoughts snapped back, and she looked at Wesley—her son, the one she had fought so hard to bring into the world, who looked so much like Francis. Her heart softened. Just as she was about to speak, Wesley asked, “Mommy, you said I’m your whole world, and what Daddy and I like, you should like too, right?” Clara, confused, asked, “Wesley, what are you trying to say?” “I like Ms. Dawson. You should like her too, Mommy,” Wesley said. “Just like Daddy and I do.”