Chapter 1

The day my pregnancy was confirmed, my husband booked a one-way ticket abroad.

His friend saw the ticket and blurted out, shocked.

"You're really going to go find Edith?"

"Penelope Swanson's already carrying your kid."

Ralph Henson's mouth curved, his whole face lit with anticipation.

"It's exactly because there's a kid that I have to go see her."

"Edith doesn't like clean, boring little boys. She likes men who reek of being somebody's husband."

"Now that I'm about to be a father, I've finally become the version of me she likes best."

Ralph's friend was quiet for a long time.

"Then what about Penelope?"

"You've been married all these years. She's been so good to you."

Ralph laughed softly, as if he'd heard some trivial thing that didn't concern him.

"Penelope won't find out. I'm just going to let myself off the leash for ten months."

"Once the baby's born, I'll come back and be a good husband to her."

"The three of us will live just fine."

I stood outside the door, and all the blood in me felt like it had frozen.

So Ralph wasn't overjoyed because we were going to have a child.

He was overjoyed because this child had finally turned him into the man Edith Simmons liked.

I didn't push the door open. I only sent my lawyer a message.

"Draw up divorce papers for me."

"I'm done with this marriage."

1

Ralph's friend still hesitated.

"You're really not afraid she'll find out?"

Ralph laughed.

"Penelope loves me so much."

"Even if she found out, a little coaxing would smooth it over."

I looked down at the baby shoes in my hands.

The clerk had said this was the best-selling style this year, that a lot of new moms bought them.

I'd stood in front of the shelf back then and taken a long time choosing.

But it turned out Ralph had figured out a use for this child even earlier than I had.

I didn't push the door open.

I only turned, went downstairs, and threw those baby shoes into the trash.

The shoebox made a small, light sound as it landed.

As if something had dropped and hit the ground along with it.

By the time I came back to the living room, Ralph had already come out of the study.

He walked over, his hand resting lightly on my belly.

His eyes and brow soft, like a father who truly couldn't wait for his child to be born.

If I hadn't heard those words a moment ago.

I probably really would have believed this was a happy moment.

Ralph looked down at me, his eyes shining.

"The doctor said the baby's very healthy."

"Penelope, we finally have a child."

"Are you happy?"

The hand at my side stayed rigid for a long time.

In the end it settled lightly on his shoulder.

"Happy."

Ralph's mouth curved, his face full of joy.

"I'm happy too."

"I've never been this happy in my life."

The words dropped into my ears like a thin needle.

So he really was happy.

Happy enough to book a plane ticket right away.

Happy enough that he couldn't wait to use the child in my belly as his excuse to go see another woman.

Ralph helped me sit down and started eagerly talking about the nursery.

"I want to get an imported crib. Safer."

"And we'll screen the night nurses in advance. I won't have you or the baby settling for less."

He said it all so seriously.

Like he really was planning our future.

But all at once I remembered that he'd always been like this before.

Thoughtful, presentable, not a single fault you could point to.

My stomach was weak, so he'd tell the housekeeper to make me porridge every day.

On my birthday, he'd book the restaurant a month ahead.

Everyone on the outside said Ralph loved me.

That for a man like him to care for his wife to that degree was already rare.

I used to believe it too.

Until the day I happened to see the notes on his phone.

Edith only drinks hot lattes.

Edith's old injury aches every winter, remember to remind her to use a medicated patch.

One line after another, all recorded perfectly clearly.

My birthday, of course, he remembered too.

It was just that every year, an assistant delivered the gift to the house ahead of time.

He'd post a photo of the two of us online, with the caption:

"Happy birthday to my wife."

But on Edith's birthday, he'd make a cake with his own hands.

He'd fail three times and still refuse to let the housekeeper help.

I stood in the kitchen doorway and watched the back of his hand go red where the baking pan burned it.

I asked him, "Who's it for?"

Ralph's hands paused, and then he quickly smiled and said, "An old friend."

I didn't think much of it then. I even helped him whip the cream.

It was only later that I learned that old friend was named Edith Simmons.

The one Ralph never got in his youth.

The one he'd kept buried in his heart for years.

Ralph was still sitting beside me, and he asked softly,

"Penelope, who do you think the baby will look like?"

It suddenly struck me as absurd.

The child wasn't even born yet.

And it had already become his reason to run to someone else.

I said, "I don't know."

Ralph looked up at me.

Finally sensing how cold I'd gone, he frowned slightly.

"What's wrong?"

"Is it too sudden? Haven't wrapped your head around it yet?"

I looked at the concern in Ralph's eyes.

And in that instant, I honestly couldn't tell whether there was a single shred of sincerity in him.

He really did seem to treat me well.

But the person he loved had never been me.

He never reached to hold me first, never came close to me in the night.

Every time we were intimate, he was quiet to the point of coldness, like a husband fulfilling a husband's obligation.

I used to think that was just how he was.

But a moment ago in the study, when he brought up Edith, his voice had leapt with joy.

I finally understood that it wasn't that Ralph had no heat in him.

It was only that his heat had never belonged to me.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was the lawyer replying.

"Miss Swanson, the divorce papers are drawn up."

"Given that it's a divorce during pregnancy and there's the matter of the child, things may get more complicated from here."