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2
Half an hour later, laughter drifted in from the hall.
Timothy came in dragging Gwyneth's three suitcases for her, her windbreaker slung over one arm.
Gwyneth caught sight of the full table and let out an exaggerated cry.
"Lottie, I hereby crown you head chef!"
"All that time abroad, I got so sick of plain Western food I could gag."
Timothy set her luggage down and laughed at that.
"Knew you'd be craving real food."
"Lottie's got no ambition anyway. Cooking, washing dishes, that's about it. No comparison to you."
They both laughed.
I stood where I was, my fingers slowly curling into fists.
"My job. You're the one who told me to quit it."
The laughter in the living room stopped for a beat.
Timothy frowned at me.
"So? What's your point? I told you to quit, I didn't tell you to laze around the house all day."
"Besides, the state you've been in every day, do you really think you could've kept that job?"
He was right. These months of pregnancy had been harder on me than anything I'd known.
I couldn't say for sure I'd have held up if I'd still been working.
Gwyneth quickly took my hand.
"Lottie, Timothy just worries about you."
"And a woman doesn't have to have a career. Taking good care of the family, that's already something to be proud of."
Her tone was sincere.
But hearing it hurt worse than mockery.
Gwyneth could win international awards, travel the world, surf, jump out of planes.
And I'd quit my job, carried a child, pushed through morning sickness to put a whole meal on the table.
The highest praise I could earn was head chef, and taking good care of the home.
Over dinner, Gwyneth pulled out her tablet to show Timothy the project proposal she'd just finished.
The two of them went from overseas markets to funding plans.
I'd watched this scene for seven years.
Back in school, they were the twin stars, the brightest the place had.
They'd won the startup competition together, made the cover of a finance magazine together.
And I was just an ordinary bank clerk.
When they pulled all-nighters revising a project, I was the one delivering the food.
When they stood on stage giving interviews, I sat in the audience, holding their phones and their coats.
I used to think that as long as Timothy took my hand and came home to me in the end,
whether or not I stood beside him didn't matter.
It wasn't until this moment that I saw it.
Marriage had given me the title of wife, but it had never let me into his world.
When Gwyneth got to the funding plan, I couldn't help reminding them:
"The policy in this industry seems to have shifted lately. The banks have been tightening their approvals."
Timothy didn't even lift his head.
"You've been out of work two months. Your information's long out of date."
"Gwyneth and I will handle this. You don't need to worry about it."
But Gwyneth looked at me and said with a smile:
"Lottie, there's no need to rush to prove yourself like this."
"There's nothing wrong with being a homemaker."
Only then did Timothy raise his head.
"She's always like this. Scared she can't keep up with us, so she forces herself to take it all in."
"There's really no need."
He ladled a bowl of soup for me and set it in front of me.
"Everyone's abilities are different."
"You just focus on taking good care of the baby. That's the biggest help you can give me."
I looked at the soup in the bowl, scattered all over with the cilantro I never eat, and my stomach began to turn again.
I said nothing more, only lowered my head to confirm the Wednesday morning prenatal checkup.
Last time, Timothy had suddenly needed to drive Gwyneth to the airport, and promised he'd come with me the next time for sure.
But I didn't ask him again whether he still remembered.
