Chapter 1

The moment the young coworker reached for a can of iced soda, my husband caught her wrist.

"Don't drink that cold stuff. Aren't you on your period?"

Without missing a beat, he shoved the icy can right in front of me, taking the steaming mug of hot tea sitting before me and placing it gently by her hand.

Smooth. Seamless. Practiced.

I froze.

He remembered her cycle was today, but completely forgot mine was, too.

A dull, sharp cramp twisted through my lower belly, suddenly impossible to ignore.

I pushed the cold soda away, looked up, and stared at him.

"I started mine today, too."

The private dining room went dead silent.

Ethan, my husband, was sitting right beside me.

He clearly never expected me to call him out in front of everyone.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence in a low, tight voice:

"Work's been crazy lately. Slipped my mind."

With that, he stood up, walked behind my chair to the beverage counter, and poured a cup of hot water.

I stared down at the mug. The steam rose in delicate swirls, blurring my vision.

I said nothing.

I just couldn't stop wondering: when did he start changing?

I had asked myself this question hundreds of times, but I could never pinpoint the exact moment it started.

All I knew was that he was always busy now—working late every single night, constantly called into the office on weekends.

The second he got home, he'd sink into the sofa, eyes glued to his phone. Whenever I asked him anything, he gave me nothing but distracted, half-hearted grunts.

We never used to be like this.

During the first two years of our marriage, he tracked my cycle down to the exact day. He would brew hot herbal tea ahead of time and warm up the heating pad before gently waking me.

When cramps kept me up in the middle of the night, he'd rub my belly over and over, his own eyelids drooping until two in the morning, never complaining once.

And now? He remembered his coworker's cycle, but forgot his wife's.

Or more accurately—he still remembered the date. He just assigned it to someone else.

I finally lifted my chin to look across the table at the girl.

She was young, probably around twenty-four, with glowing, porcelain skin.

Noticing my gaze, she offered me a sweet, timid smile.

Ethan was the one who asked me to come tonight.

He said the department was having a dinner where spouses were welcome, and told me to tag along.

I had been so genuinely happy, thinking he was finally willing to bring me back into his world.

In over three years of marriage, I rarely attended his work events. He always brushed it off, saying they were just tedious corporate networking sessions and a total waste of time.

So tonight, I made a real effort. I did my makeup carefully, wore a brand-new floral sundress, and checked myself in the mirror over and over before leaving.

Even though my cramps were so bad I could barely stand straight, I still showed up.

I just wanted to be with him. I thought it would be nice just sitting by his side, watching him laugh and chat with his team.

Gradually, the chatter at the table resumed. Glasses clinked again as people moved on to project deadlines and office gossip.

Lisa, sitting beside me, leaned in and whispered, "Claire, are you okay? You look pale."

I shook my head with a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just bad cramps."

She didn't push. She quietly poured me some warm water and patted the back of my hand.

A woman's kindness can be that simple—silent, unspoken support.

I took a small sip. The warmth slipped down my throat, but it couldn't reach the chill inside my chest.

I noticed Ethan's phone screen light up several times. Every single time, he glanced down, read it, and immediately placed it face-down.

I never had the habit of snooping through his phone. Never.

Friends had warned me before to check his texts and track his location, but I always found that humiliating. Trust was the bedrock of a marriage.

Only now did I realize that trust is a gift you only give to someone who deserves it.

I laid down my fork, dabbed my lips with a napkin, and said softly:

"I'm heading out. My stomach really hurts."

Ethan turned to look at me, his brows pulling into a faint frown.

"I'll drive you home," he said.

"No need."