“Bella, who allowed you to walk in without knocking!”
“Leave!” Freddie grabbed the clothes on the floor and covered the woman in his arms.
Imogen stared at me with a helpless look, like a scared little animal.
That day, I ran out in shock.
I even remembered to shut the door behind me.
When Freddie came home that night, the whole place was in chaos.
I threw the food and the cake onto the ground, ripped up every picture of Freddie and me and broke anything I could reach.
Freddie stepped through the mess and sat down in front of me.
In the end, I was the one who spoke first, asking him when it began.
“You don’t want the answer.”
“Bella, wouldn’t it be easier if you stayed home as Mrs. Williams?”
Freddie stayed just as far away and his words hit me like something cold.
I lost control and called Imogen right in front of him.
Freddie grabbed my phone and smashed it apart. “Are you out of your mind? She has no idea!”
The room seemed to freeze.
I looked at him with a tight smile and asked, “Freddie, does she really know nothing?”
Although Freddie and I were secretly married, anyone who paid attention could tell our situation was nowhere near simple.
Imogen had asked about Freddie and me more than once; even someone clueless would get it.
“At least I haven’t mentioned anything.”
Freddie’s cold voice came out, and in that moment, it felt like my chest cracked apart.
“Bella, let me tell you, if you cause her trouble, we’re getting a divorce!”
For those three years, whenever I felt upset because of Imogen, Freddie always liked to use divorce to threaten me.
Each time, I bowed my head and gave in.
Only that one time, I agreed. “Freddie, then let’s get a divorce.”
Later, during the divorce process, Freddie set harsh terms to force me to give up, nearly telling me to walk away with nothing.
I made a clean choice and signed the divorce papers.
Back then, there was no waiting period for divorce and we quickly got our divorce documents.
At the doors of the City Hall, Freddie clenched his teeth and warned me not to regret it.
Freddie acted like he was sure I would change my mind, that I would regret it, but I didn’t.
For five years, I had almost never thought about him.
If Cindy hadn’t pushed me to attend the reunion, I wouldn’t have crossed paths with him again.
As something landed on my shoulder, I saw a black suit jacket placed over it.
A well-known cool scent reached my nose.
It was Freddie.
“Bella, five years. I never thought you would really refuse to come back.”
Without thinking, I lifted the coat off and passed it to him.
“Come back to be your mistress?"
Freddie, his face blank, caught my wrist and pulled open my inner shirt.
Across my pale stomach were tight marks.
“Bella, did you give birth to my child five years ago?”
Since the wind was strong, I couldn’t hear Freddie’s voice.
My sight went blurry and I felt like I was back in those days of having nowhere to go five years ago.
During that time, Freddie and I ended our divorce and I walked empty-handed.
With the divorce and being pregnant, I didn’t even dare step near my own family home.
Three years of being a full-time wife had left me with no useful job skills.
I had no money for another abortion, so I tried home tricks to make the baby leave on its own.
I tried jumping rope, chewing raw herbs that were said to move the blood and going without food for three days, but the baby stayed strong.
In the end, I couldn’t keep forcing it.
I became foolish, holding on to the idea of giving birth to my ex-husband’s baby.
I lived in a small basement room, worked a part-time shift at a diner and supported myself and the tiny life growing inside me.
