Chapter 2

Halfway home, he took a call from Geraldine.

The speaker wasn't on, but the car was too quiet, and I heard her crying.

"Frederick, does Josephine know? Is she going to hate me? I'm really scared."

Frederick's hands tightened on the wheel.

"Don't cry. The doctor said you can't get worked up."

He glanced at me. Before he hung up, he added one more thing.

"I'll come by later."

I turned to look out the window.

So five years of marriage couldn't outweigh one word of fear from her.

When the car pulled into the garage, Frederick didn't get out right away.

"Josephine, this pregnancy is hard on Geraldine. She was there for you through the worst days back then, and you know her health isn't good."

I unbuckled my seatbelt.

"When she was crying with me, the two of you were already sleeping together. Isn't that right?"

His face finally darkened.

"Don't humiliate yourself with talk like that."

I laughed so hard my shoulders shook.

"You two do it, but the moment I say it out loud, I'm humiliating myself."

He reached over and held the car door shut.

"Josephine, I'll make it up to you."

I looked at him.

"That first night, when you didn't rush to the hospital, was that what you were thinking then too?"

Frederick's hand slid off the door. He didn't speak.

He didn't need to answer. I already knew.

Four years ago, I lost my first baby.

It was pouring that night. The pain had me crouched in the entryway, and I called Frederick seven times before he picked up.

"Josephine, I'm out of town, I can't make it back. Call a car and get to the hospital first. I'll have my assistant reach the doctor."

Back then I was still making excuses for him.

The Gilbert family had so much going on, he was busy, he couldn't come.

Later, the woman next door took me to the hospital.

After I lost the baby, Geraldine held me and cried until she nearly fainted.

Over and over she said her heart broke for me, soothing me in that gentle voice, telling me that as long as I still had Frederick's love, I would surely get through it.

I even patted her back, comforting her instead.

Now Frederick had told me himself that the two of them started right after that.

Only now did I understand how sickening those tears had been.

Back home, he took off his coat and hung it up, then went to the kitchen to pour warm water.

He never lost control. Even having just admitted to the affair, every move was still elegant enough that you couldn't find fault with it.

"Drink some water. Your lips are pale."

I didn't take it.

He set the cup on the coffee table.

"That night, Geraldine had slit her wrists at the hospital. It was serious."

My hand trembled.

"She'd found out she might never be able to conceive, and she fell apart. When I got there, her hands were covered in blood. Josephine, I thought you just had a stomachache."

"Just a stomachache?"

I swept the cup off the coffee table. Water splashed onto the hem of his trousers. He didn't move.

"Frederick, my baby died that night. And you're telling me you thought it was just a stomachache?"

His throat moved.

"By the time I got to the hospital, your surgery was already done."

"By the time you got there, Geraldine had come along too. She held me and cried, said her heart broke for me. You stood in the doorway and told her not to cry herself sick."

I remembered it too clearly.

Geraldine was a sobbing mess, and Frederick handed the tissues to her first.

Back then I only thought he was taking care of a friend.

Only now did I understand that the one who looked most like an outsider in that room was me.

Frederick bent to pick up the broken glass. A shard caught his finger, and a bead of blood welled up.

I watched, cold.

There was a time when the smallest scrape on his hand would send me digging through the medicine box.

Now that little bit of blood meant nothing to me.

He tossed the shards away and pressed a tissue to the cut.

"Josephine, I admit I was wrong. But it's already happened, and the baby is almost due. If you divorce now, you'll only make things awkward for everyone."

I stood up.

"You're afraid of things being awkward?"

"I'm afraid you'll regret it later."

He made me laugh out of sheer anger.

"Frederick, how dare you regret things on my behalf?"

He lifted his eyes to me, exhaustion pressing beneath them.

"You've loved me for so many years. I don't believe you can let go just like that."

Impressive. Killing someone and still choosing the softest spot to drive the knife in.

For our fifth anniversary dinner, I sat alone for two hours.

The dress was the one he liked, the earrings were ones he'd given me.

Only once I sat down did I realize how ridiculous I was.

I knew everything, and I still showed up.

At seven twenty, his message popped up.

【Geraldine's having abdominal pain, I'm at the hospital. Go ahead and eat.】

The waiter brought out the anniversary cake, the card reading: 【Happy fifth anniversary to Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert】.

I turned the card face down, paid the bill, and took a cab to the hospital.

The ward door wasn't shut all the way.

Frederick was half-kneeling by the bed, tucking a blanket over Geraldine.

Geraldine gripped his hand, her eyes rimmed red.

"Frederick, what if Josephine won't forgive me? I'm really afraid she won't want me as a friend anymore."

Frederick's voice dropped very low.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Standing in the doorway, I suddenly remembered how, four years ago, when I woke up after surgery, I had wanted to hear him say those very words.

But that day he only said, wearily: "The doctor said you need to rest. Don't let your mind run wild."

Geraldine saw me first.

The color drained clean from her face, and she struggled to sit up.

"Josephine, I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry!"

"At first I only wanted to treat my condition. Frederick came with me for the exams, for the follow-ups. He said your health wasn't good either, that he was afraid you'd be hurt if you found out. I really never meant to steal what was yours."

"What was mine?"

I looked at that hand of hers, still clutching Frederick's sleeve.

"Geraldine, Frederick is my husband, not some coat you can borrow whenever you like."

She cried harder.

"I know I was wrong, but the baby is innocent. Josephine, you love children so much. For the sake of all these years between us, could you not hurt him?"

I was so angry I'd gone numb.

"When the two of you were sleeping together, did you spare a thought for whether I was innocent?"

Frederick moved in front of the bed.

"Josephine, don't make a scene at the hospital."

He blocked me so naturally, carefully shielding her.

Watching him do it, a wave of nausea rose in my stomach.

"Frederick, four years ago I came out of the operating room and you stood by her side handing her tissues. Four years later, you're still standing by her bed."

"Your place never changed. I'm the one who kept getting it wrong."

Once the words were out, he said nothing more.