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Two years of marriage, I stood by Alpha Noah’s side, carried his child—I truly believed happiness was finally coming. Until that day, he sat behind his desk, looked at me with cold indifference, and said: “Let’s get a divorce.” But I'm pregnant. He and his white moonlight just scoffed, stood up, and looked down at me: “Then get rid of it.” I thought that was the end. But it wasn’t. My child and I survived. And their good days—are just beginning to end. You threw me away back then. Now you’re not even worthy of seeing me in your dreams.
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