2: 2
2.
That night, I saw a post from Clarence's cousin on my social media feed: My poor brother — seven years with someone, only to be treated like a backup. Thank God Elaine actually cares about him. Some women won't lay their own eggs and won't let anyone else lay theirs either. The nerve of them.
The photo was the group shot from the private room tonight, Elaine sitting beside Clarence, a cake set out in front of them, everyone laughing.
In the comments, Clarence's relatives were debating what to name the baby.
I scrolled down. A mutual friend had replied underneath: She's right. Clarence hasn't had it easy, stuck with a woman like that.
My heart gave a sharp twist, and the tears nearly came again.
I closed the feed, only to find that the class group chat and the family group chat were both full of it too.
Someone had pulled me into a small private group to talk me down. A woman friend in it sent a long message: "I think Clarence has a point, honestly. You never wanted kids in the first place, and now someone's willing to have one for you."
"And the baby's still your boyfriend's own blood, so isn't that a good thing? I really don't get what you're so upset about."
I stared at the message. I wanted to fire back a long reply of my own, but in the end I just stayed silent, and the tears fell before I could stop them.
I turned off the screen and sat in the dark with my arms around my knees.
The whole world was urging me to accept it. Not one person thought Clarence and Elaine had betrayed me.
They only thought I was being petty, making a scene over nothing.
Even my right to be angry had been stripped away. I'd become a joke, an ungrateful fool.
For seven years, I'd treated Clarence as my love, Elaine as my sister, my mother as someone to lean on.
Only now did I see that none of them had ever treated me as a person at all.
Early the next morning, my doorbell rang.
Elaine stood in the doorway in a cream knit top, the faint swell of her belly showing through it.
When I said nothing, she stepped closer, took my hand, and laid it gently on her stomach, her voice soft. "The baby's moving already. When I had my ultrasound, I saw him turn over in there. He was so cute."
"And I kept thinking — a baby this precious, wouldn't it be wonderful if he could call you Mom?"
Her eyes were unbelievably tender, as if she truly cared about me.
I pulled my hand back and said coldly, "Elaine. You slept with my boyfriend, got pregnant with his baby, and now you come here to tell me how cute it is?"
"You stole your best friend's boyfriend. Don't you feel even the slightest bit of shame?"
Elaine blinked, her eyes full of innocence, her voice puzzled. "Yes, I slept with him, but I only wanted to help you. Look — ever since this baby, his parents have agreed to let you two marry. You're the one who didn't go register."
"I've been so good to you. Why would you look at me with such an ugly mind?"
She lowered her head and stroked her belly softly. "Besides, the baby's already here. We can't just get rid of it, can we? It's a life."
Listening to Elaine deliver these vicious words so gently, I only felt the whole thing grow more absurd.
They were the ones who couldn't keep it in their pants and ended up in bed together, and now they'd dressed it up as some kind of self-sacrifice.
And she wanted to use a life to hold me hostage, to turn me, the one who'd been betrayed, into a jealous woman who just wasn't generous enough?
I finally couldn't stand it anymore, and my voice came out with anger in it. "Are you done? If you're done, then get out!"
Then, without waiting to see how she reacted, I shut the door without a moment's hesitation.
