Chapter 1

I got into a minor fender bender while driving my husband’s car, so I pulled the dashcam footage to submit an insurance claim.

Before I could even scroll to the timestamp of the accident, last night’s video froze me in my tracks.

A strange woman was sitting in the passenger seat. Her belly was noticeably swollen, at least five or six months along.

The first thing she said when she buckled in was, "The baby kicked today."

My husband’s voice came through the car speakers, filled with an excitement I had never heard before:

"Really? Let me listen."

Then, they started talking about baby names.

Boy names, girl names, which middle name would sound best.

My fingers went stiff. I started scrolling backward through the files.

She was there in almost every single one.

Same pickup spot. Same route. My husband would drop her off at her place first, then drive home alone.

I shut off the video, my entire body trembling.

My phone buzzed. It was my husband, Ethan.

"Babe, I saw the collision alert on the car app. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

I spoke very slowly:

"I'm fine. The car took some damage, so I'm pulling the dashcam footage right now."

There was a momentary pause in his breathing on the other end.

"Honestly, if it's not bad, don't bother pulling the dashcam. It’s a pain to export. Just wait for me to get home and I’ll handle it."

Ethan’s tone sounded completely casual, as if he were discussing something trivial.

I stared at the woman’s profile on the screen. She was running a hand through her hair, a delicate gold chain shining on her wrist.

"No. I need to see it."

My voice was surprisingly steady.

"Seriously, babe, you don’t need to go through all that trouble. Insurance doesn't always need dashcam video for a little scratch. Just snap a few pictures, send them to me, and I’ll take care of the rest. Head home and rest."

Ethan kept talking.

His tone was coaxing, almost sweet.

I used to fall for this every single time.

Whenever he used that voice, I’d think to myself how gentle and attentive he was, how lucky I was to marry him.

Now, it just made me sick to my stomach.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this annoying stuff. Be good, just go home."

Ethan added.

A sudden urge to laugh bubbled up in my chest.

*You shouldn't have to deal with it.*

He always used to say that.

He promised he would handle all the heavy lifting in our life, and that my only job was to be happy and pampered.

And I believed him.

I believed him without a single doubt.

"Ethan, do you have a guilty conscience?"

I asked quietly.

The line stayed dead silent for three whole seconds.

"What? Of course not! Why would I feel guilty?"

Ethan’s voice jumped half an octave, loaded with the righteous indignation of an innocent man.

"I'm just trying to save you the headache! Why are you jumping to weird conclusions?"

I kept staring at the woman’s belly on my screen.

It was round and heavy, definitely five or six months.

The seatbelt rested snug beneath her bump, and she instinctively kept one hand cradling it. It was such a practiced motion.

"Just kidding. Can't believe you took it seriously."

The corner of my mouth twitched.

"Anyway, I'm busy. Talk later."

"Babe..."

Before he could finish, I hung up.

I grabbed my phone and recorded several clips directly from my laptop screen.

I zoomed in tight, capturing the woman’s face, her baby bump, the gold bracelet, and the clear timestamps on the footage.

Then, I checked the oldest file on the card.

Three and a half months ago.

Which meant they were already together long before that.

The dashcam simply overwrote anything older than three and a half months.

I transferred every single file onto a USB flash drive, pulled it out, and buried it in the deepest zippered pocket of my purse.

Only then did I handle the accident.

I snapped photos of the dent, called the insurance company, and completed the report.

Through it all, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

I sat in the car for a long time.

Outside, dusk gave way to complete darkness. The fluorescent lights in the underground garage hummed a low, droning buzz.

I couldn't wrap my head around it.

Ethan and I had been married for four years and together for two before that. Six years in total.

In six years, we had never had a real, explosive fight.

He didn't smoke, rarely drank, deposited his paychecks into our shared pool, and used my birthday as his phone passcode.

Whenever we disagreed, he was always the first to apologize, regardless of who was right or wrong. He never missed an anniversary, a birthday, or a holiday.

All our friends and family told me how lucky I was.

My mom couldn't stop bragging about Ethan, saying he was more devoted than a biological son could ever be.

He had always told me that if I didn't want kids, we didn't have to have them. He promised he would always respect my choice.

Last year during a routine checkup, the doctor told me I had a tilted uterus and might have a harder time conceiving.

I cried for days, feeling like a broken woman.

Ethan had held me tight and told me it didn't matter. He said women weren't obligated to bear children.

He said he fell in love with *me*, not my ability to breed.

He said as long as I was happy, he was content.

Back then, I clung to him and cried my heart out, convinced I had found the love of a lifetime.

Yet the man I just saw on that screen was a man thrilled to become a father.