At six months pregnant, Thomas Montgomery had his friends over for some gaming. I prepared a meal and served it to them, only for Blaire Clark to burst into tears, accusing me of trying to upset her. All because I had mistakenly added some parsley she despised to the dish.

Thomas and his friends demanded I apologize. "She's just sensitive; try to accommodate her," Thomas said coldly. I refused, and he pushed me down to my knees in front of Blaire. "Apologize to her, you're out of line!"

Humiliated, I quietly scheduled the soonest possible appointment for an abortion that day. But when I truly decided to leave, Thomas went into a rage.

I leaned against the cold wall as I made my way out of the hospital. The sky had turned dark, and snow was falling heavily. The biting cold and the sharp pain in my abdomen were unbearable. I checked my phone and saw a message from Thomas.

[It's freezing out there. Don't be angry, just come back.]

[By the way, remember to pick up some sanitary pads from the store on your way back.]

I was bleeding, the crimson evidence of my decision. How did Thomas know I’d had the procedure? I called him. The laughter on his end quickly faded.

Usually, by this time, his friends had already left. "Have you realized your mistake now?" Thomas's indifferent tone cut through. "Are we out of lemons at home? Make sure to get a few from the market on your way."

The child was gone.

I was about to speak, but Thomas continued, "That girl was so upset that she got her period early and is in a lot of pain."

"I want to make her some lemon ginger tea. Don’t make a fuss, just get it done."

I hung up, clutching my dizzy head. It was the first time I’d ever heard of someone being "angered into menstruating." For a moment, I thought he was concerned about my health. How naïve of me.

It's laughable now. In the six years of marriage to Thomas, his concern for my well-being was a rarity. He never even bothered to make lemon ginger tea for me during my own time of the month. Yet, simple acts of care were limitless for Blaire.

I was too weak to argue now. To avoid a confrontation, I brought the items back. But I hadn't expected the bed I had slept in for six years to now be occupied by Blaire.

There, in our home, it was just Thomas and Blaire. Thomas grabbed the bag from my hands. "You should find somewhere else to stay tonight. Everything happening with Blaire is your fault," he said. "You need to face the consequences for your actions."

The door slammed shut. I was left utterly alone. My husband of six years had thrown me out into the cold winter night because of his childhood friend. Clenching my fists, I realized I no longer wanted this sham of a marriage.

The next day.

I dragged my weary self into the office, and as soon as I opened the door, Thomas Montgomery's angry voice slammed into me.

"What on earth are you thinking? We've got a big client visiting today, and you're late?!"

He pointed at me accusingly, as if I'd committed some terrible offense. Though we called it a company, it was really just a small studio. Thomas, born with a silver spoon, treated entrepreneurship like a hobby. The team was made up of him and his childhood pals. I was only here to lend a hand because they were short-staffed, and none of us had a formal contract. Fluent in multiple languages, I managed high-end sales. Being late was usual for them, but when it was me, it suddenly became a major issue.

"Hey Thomas, it's not worth losing your cool over something so trivial."

"Evelyn's never done this before, plus the client canceled the visit last minute."

"Just let it slide this time. Chill out, Thomas."

The group chimed in one after another, until Blaire Clark added, with a whining tone.

"Stop being a grouch, Thomas, you're making a fuss over nothing. I'm practically crawling here!"

Thomas's mood shifted instantly. He went over to Blaire and gently messed up her hair.

"Hang tight, I'll get online and help you beat the game."

Playing video games during work hours was par for the course for them. It had snowed, making the roads slippery, and I had slipped and fallen. Limping to my desk, I pulled out the chair, only for Blaire to dive in and take the seat.

She quickly set up the computer, downloading and logging into her game. "Wow, it's so cozy here! My stomach ache is gone!"

"A comfy spot really gets me going," she chirped. "Thomas, can I work here from now on?"

Blaire's role was mostly superficial; she didn’t do much beyond printing and filing. This spot was the closest to the executive office.

Thomas smirked, "Sure, you can sit wherever you want."

In their little circle, Blaire was the favorite. With everyone watching, Thomas turned to me and pointed to a secluded corner.

"Why don't you work over there from now on, so I don't have to see you."

Too exhausted to argue, I nodded. "Fine, whatever."

Thomas had originally picked my seat here, saying, "I need to keep an eye on my beautiful wife all the time."

Memories flickered like scenes from an old film. I sniffed, gathered my things, and moved to my new spot.

"Blaire's not feeling too hot, so why don't you take care of the reports she was supposed to handle today?" Thomas instructed as I booted up my computer. "Make sure you don't mess them up, or it's on you."

Blaire widened her eyes, covering her mouth, barely able to contain her excitement. Thomas's gaze cut across the room.

"Next time you're late, just be late. Don't pretend to be injured. It's not believable and quite dramatic."

His words cut through the room, leaving only the sound of the wind whispering through the silence. I thought I wouldn't feel hurt, yet my heart skipped a beat at that moment.

I stayed quiet for a while before shaking my head in resignation, closing the call I was on. It had been with the client who canceled today’s visit.