Chapter 3

When the car reached its destination, I carried my bags up to the fifth floor.

My parents would only worry, and they would never let me get rid of the baby, so I didn't go home to them. I went to stay with my best friend instead.

She threw up right after I finished telling her everything.

She raged on my behalf for hours, and then, after a long hesitation, she looked at my belly and finally asked what she'd been holding back:

"Lucretia, are you... really set on getting rid of the baby?"

"You waited three years for this baby, didn't you?"

Three years. Yes.

Duane and I had been pushed by his mother to have a child. We'd tried everything, all the planning, all the doctors.

This baby hadn't come easily.

To say I wasn't heartbroken, wasn't torn about ending it, would be a lie.

I didn't answer. I just sat there on the bed.

It wasn't until dinnertime that I got up and went to cook with her.

My phone was on the kitchen island when it suddenly buzzed.

The master-bedroom camera alerted me that someone had gone in.

Before I left, I'd changed the camera's settings.

The moment I opened it, I saw Duane and Cheryl in the master bedroom.

Cheryl was pulling off Duane's suit jacket like a wife would.

Duane turned and wrapped his arms around her, his face flushed, as if he were drunk.

He pressed close against her, even nuzzled his head into her chest, the two of them exactly like a couple flirting. It burned to look at.

I took a deep breath, saved the camera footage, and forwarded it to Duane.

Just the video in the chat window. I didn't add a single word.

After a long while, he replied: 【My condition acted up again just now.】

One word, "condition," and every last thing was made reasonable again.

I typed back a few words.

【Fine. Then let's divorce.】

He called immediately.

"What are you kicking up a fuss about now? I told you I'm sick."

"Work already wears me out. Why do you have to come and bother me too?"

I said the same thing: "Divorce."

After a brief burst of background noise, a timid female voice came through the phone.

She was choking back tears. "Lucretia, Duane had drinks at a work thing just now, and I was only taking care of him. His condition flared up. Please don't misunderstand him."

Then I heard her talking it over with Duane. "Duane, maybe you should hold back a little? If Lucretia really misreads this and divorces you, that wouldn't be good."

Duane's voice came through:

"Lucretia, until I'm better, I'm not sending Cheryl away."

After the call ended, I opened the camera again and the screen was pitch black.

"Lucretia, are you okay?"

My friend watched me, worried.

I looked down at my belly, and in that instant my heart went hard for good.

"You asked me whether I could bring myself to get rid of the baby, didn't you?"

"Here's my answer now. I'm getting rid of it."

For the next three days, Duane didn't call once, didn't send one text.

As if he'd never existed in my life at all, gone without a trace overnight.

Soon it was Monday, the day of my scheduled procedure.

My friend took the day off just to go with me for the abortion.

The whole ride there I felt weighed down, and neither of us said a word.

But the moment I got out of the car, I saw two familiar figures, not far from me.

Duane happened to look up right then, and our eyes met.

He lowered his gaze, stared down at my belly, and knitted his brows.

"You're here for a prenatal checkup? Why didn't you tell me?"

My friend started to say I was here for an abortion, and I grabbed her arm to stop her.

My eyes moved to Cheryl at his side.

Her face was pale, like she was ill.

Duane followed my gaze, looked at Cheryl, and explained:

"She's got bad period cramps. I came with her to have it checked out."

At that, I laughed.

Back when my period cramps hurt, he always told me to drink hot water and take some medicine.

I understood that he was busy.

But now I could see the tangle between him and Cheryl wasn't just as simple as being "sick."

I didn't call it out. My friend muttered under her breath beside me:

"His own wife is carrying his child and he doesn't ask about her once."

"But he brings some other woman to the hospital for period cramps. Disgusting."

Duane heard it, and his expression shifted.

He wanted to defend himself, but Cheryl suddenly spoke up: "Duane, it hurts."

He immediately steadied her, careful, as though she were the pregnant one carrying a baby.

They'd gone a little way when he abruptly looked back.

"Once I've gotten her admitted, I'll come find you."

"No need." My tone was flat.

At my words, Duane's face darkened for a moment.

In the past, I'd have demanded answers, I'd have held on and fought.

But now, everything about him no longer mattered to me.

Watching the two of them walk away, I turned and headed for the department where the abortion would be done.

I said, "Let's go."