Chapter 2

I let out a silent, bitter laugh.

The inner band of that ring was engraved with Julian’s initials. She wore it on her finger every single day, yet she had the nerve to tell me it was just a "little gift" between friends.

I didn't say another word. I closed my eyes, and my mind drifted back to our first year of marriage.

Back then, the moment Julian got home from work, the first thing he’d do was hang around the kitchen door to watch me cook.

If I didn't let him in, he’d lean against the doorframe, sipping water and telling me about the daily gossip at his office.

"Our department hired a new assistant. She went to the same college as me. She’s pretty sharp and has been helping me out a lot," he’d mentioned casually. I hadn't paid much attention to it then.

But gradually, this "underclassman" started appearing in his stories more and more.

"Chloe helped me organize a presentation today, otherwise I would've been stuck at the office until midnight."

"Chloe said there’s a great new Italian place near her apartment. I’ll have to take you there sometime."

"It was Chloe’s birthday today. The department got her a cake, she was so happy."

It all sounded like normal, everyday chatter. His tone was casual, his expression completely open.

I had never suspected a thing.

But some things just don't hold up under closer scrutiny.

On our wedding anniversary, I had booked a nice restaurant and bought a new dress.

Right before clock-out time, he texted me saying he had to work late on an urgent project.

I sat in that restaurant alone until nine-thirty, watching the food go completely cold.

Only later did I find out that Chloe had a fever that night, and he had rushed her to the hospital.

"She’s living alone in the city, Clara. She doesn't have anyone to even bring her a glass of water when she's sick. If I didn't help, who would?"

That was Julian's explanation when he got home, his tone laced with a touch of exasperation, as if I was the unreasonable one for being upset.

It hurt.

But he had said it so earnestly, with absolutely no guilt in his eyes.

"We're just colleagues. Don't be paranoid."

And I believed him.

The little life inside me was conceived that very month.

From then on, he started putting his phone face-down more and more. He’d walk out to the balcony to take calls. Every time a Snapchat notification popped up, he’d instinctively glance at me first before picking up his phone.

I noticed it all, but I stayed quiet.

And then came last night.

I was still five days away from my due date, and I had planned to double-check my hospital bag over the weekend.

But at eleven in the evening, my water suddenly broke. A warm rush of fluid flowed down my legs, and my hands started shaking in sheer panic.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Julian's number.

But the voice that answered was a woman’s.

"Hello?"

Her voice was thick with the lazy, soft drawl of someone who had just been woken up.

I froze. The fluid was still leaking, and I had to support myself against the armrest of the couch. I could barely hold the phone.

"...I'm looking for Julian."

"Oh, he’s driving right now." Her tone was incredibly casual.

Then, I heard Julian’s voice in the background: "Who is it?"

"Your wife."