Signing Divorce on the Day of Miscarriage

Today is the day that Calvin Gresham's childhood sweetheart, Vivian Scott, returns. Calvin said he wanted to host a welcoming banquet for her and booked the most luxurious private room in the city. As Calvin Gresham's wife, it was only natural for me to stay by his side. The lighting in the private room was warm and soft; Vivian Scott wore a white dress, her smile still holding that innocent look from years ago. The waiter brought over the drinks, and Calvin picked up the bottle to pour me a glass. I instinctively covered the rim of the glass and whispered, "Calvin, I can't drink alcohol." Calvin froze for a moment, and Vivian looked over as well. I took a deep breath and confessed the secret I had hidden for half a month: "I'm pregnant." As soon as I spoke, Vivian's smile disappeared instantly. She suddenly stood up, her eyes filled with disbelief and anger. Before we could react, she grabbed the fruit knife from the table and cut off her long hair. Black strands of hair scattered and fell to the floor. Calvin cried out in surprise and tried to stop her but was pushed away. Vivian held the remaining half of her hair and ran out of the private room as if she were mad. I sat where I was, my fingers icy cold, my heart pounding rapidly. Before long, Calvin's assistant called to say that Vivian had gone to a temple on the outskirts of the city to cut her hair as a vow to become a nun. Calvin Gresham hung up the phone and suddenly turned to glare at me. His gaze was like ice, sending a chill down my spine. "Veronica Sinclair, are you satisfied now?" His voice was filled with grinding, furious anger. I opened my mouth to explain, but he interrupted me. "You clearly know how much Vivian cares about me, so why did you have to announce your pregnancy at this moment?" He stepped closer to me, his tone full of accusation: "You deliberately provoked her, you're the one who drove her away!" I stared at him, a wave of cold dread rising in my heart. We had been married for a year, and he had never spoken to me in such a tone before. Before I could respond, Calvin suddenly grabbed the scissors from the table and yanked at my hair. I screamed in fear, trying to pull away, but he held me tightly. "Since Vivian cut her hair, don't think you'll be allowed to keep yours either." The cold scissors pressed against my scalp as strands of my long hair fell to the floor. I looked at my disheveled reflection in the mirror and couldn't hold back the tears. After cutting my hair, Calvin didn't even look at me; he grabbed his coat and walked out. "Stay here, don't wander off." His voice was completely cold, as if I were just a meaningless stranger. I sat alone in the empty private room, strands of hair—from Vivian Scott and me—scattered across the floor. Outside, the sky grew darker, and my heart sank steadily. Calvin Gresham ultimately brought Vivian Scott back from the temple. Vivian wore plain clothes and had her hair cut short, looking especially pitiful. Calvin took her back to our home—the house we had decorated together. After I entered, Calvin Gresham said to me directly, "Veronica, you should move to the guest room; let Vivian have the master bedroom." I was stunned, unable to believe my ears. "Calvin, that's our bedroom..." "Vivian needs to rest properly now, and the guest room is suitable for you." He cut me off, his tone brooking no argument. Vivian Scott stood to the side, her head bowed, but the corner of her mouth curled into a barely perceptible smile. I looked at Calvin, filled with grievance, yet still nodded.