I even thought, if only in that moment he had left Chloe and come after me.
If he promised to keep his distance from his sister, maybe we could have gone on.
But it didn’t happen.
Ethan braced his hands on the edge of the bed, leaning closer to my ear.
“Lily? I know you’re awake. You didn’t eat much at dinner. Mom and Dad asked me to bring you some food. Get up and eat?”
When I didn’t answer, he sighed deeply.
“They really do see you as family. Otherwise, they wouldn’t go to the trouble.”
“They’re old. Whatever issues you have, can’t you just talk them through?”
Under the blanket, my fists clenched tight.
I forced myself to breathe evenly.
I was waiting.
Waiting for an apology.
But he still didn’t understand.
The conflict wasn’t between me and his parents.
It was between the two of us.
I waited a long, long time.
Waited until he lay down beside me, until the mattress sank under his weight.
Waited until his breathing steadied, until he fell asleep.
Still no apology.
Tears fell as I stared at his back.
Maybe it really was time to end it.
At dawn, he got up as usual, washed, dressed, and left for work.
Before leaving, he kissed my forehead.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
His calm voice made it seem as though nothing had happened the night before.
I watched his departing figure, swallowing back the words I couldn’t say.
The truth was, I hadn’t lied.
I really was pregnant.
For the next two days, we lived in cold silence.
He went out, I stayed home.
He came home, I left the room.
He still ordered takeout from the same place, never remembering to note “no onions or ginger.”
If I didn’t say anything, he’d never even notice I was angry.
On the third night, he got a call and rushed out, forgetting to even shut down his laptop.
In the dark, the glowing screen drew me in. I sat down at the desk almost against my will.
His messenger was still open, synced with his phone.
Only one pinned contact.
Saved as “Little Princess.”
And me—his wife—buried under a flood of work group messages, impossible to find.
I clicked into the chat. Ten minutes earlier, Chloe had called him.
Then came a photo of her hospital report. She’d slipped and was having pregnancy complications.
“Ethan, will the baby be okay?”
“It’s my first time being pregnant. I don’t know what to do. Can you come be with me?”
“It’s my fault. If only I’d been more careful.”
Ethan’s replies were overflowing with patience and tenderness.
“It’s okay. I’m on my way. Don’t worry.”
“You’ve always been reckless. Now you’re going to be a mom, you still don’t know how to take care of yourself. Be careful, even when I’m not around.”
Chloe sent back a crying cat emoji.
“You’re scolding me. I’ll tell the baby you’re a bad dad!”
“Good thing I never got married. What if my husband was like you? That would be awful!”
“I can’t change my habits. Maybe you should just move in and watch me?”
Ethan’s response was full of indulgence.
“Alright, alright, Princess. Whatever you say. You’re the most important now.”
“When I proposed and you turned me down, was this why? You really don’t trust me? If it were you, I’d treasure you above anyone.”
“Chloe, you’re different to me. Always have been.”
A tear splashed onto the keyboard, blurring the words on the screen.
My phone buzzed—it was a message from Ethan.
