Rory called while I was at work.

"Jilian, could you reach Harvey? He sent me a proposal, then disappeared. I'm here just as a filler, so he should at least walk me through it."

I switched over to WhatsApp, where the dozens of texts I had sent Harvey were all unanswered. And as if I had annoyed him, the last text bounced back with a red exclamation mark.

"Maybe he's just too busy. I'm sorry, Rory. Let me call him for you."

"Thanks, Jilian. I'll be waiting for your good news."

After his promotion to manager, Harvey was assigned an assistant, Rory. The kid was quick-witted but hardly stepped in when it came to actual projects.

When I dialed, the line rang and rang before cutting off. After I tried several times again, he finally picked up. The background was noisy, and his voice came through thick and nasal. "Stop blowing up my phone. Aren't you tired of this?"

He sounded so upset, as though the one who had died was his wife.

For a moment, I froze. First, it was because he had never spoken to me like this, though part of me had seen it coming. Second, it was because of the voice of an older woman in the background. It had gone hoarse from crying.

"Harvey, if only Cassie had married you back then. She was unhappy all these years and had always wanted to reach out to you, but you're already married. If only she had waited a little longer, the two who truly loved each other wouldn't have had to miss their chance."

So, those two had been so close to marriage. I pinched my arm to snap out of it. "Rory said the project—"

"I've handed everything over. Don't bother yourself with it," he said, impatiently cutting me off.

Then, realizing his sharp tone, he softened his voice to say, "I'm at Cassie's funeral. We'll talk later."

After the line went dead, I sat still, staring at my phone for a long time. He had forgotten that today was our fifth wedding anniversary. He was at his first love's funeral, crying as if the world had ended.

All I could do was send Rory an apology, and he replied with a sticker.

[Cheer up, Jilian. It'll be fine once everything blows over.]

But if I claimed that I wasn't sad, I would just be lying to myself. Why did I have to wait for this to blow over? How long was I supposed to endure this grief?

The way Harvey cared so much made me wonder if all those times he seemed lost in thought, he had been thinking of someone else, whom he had done similar things with.

Harvey cut off all contact, so no one could reach him. The company was in chaos and scrambling to find someone to fill his role. Even with all the groundwork he had laid, the deal still collapsed in the end.

Once he had everything settled for Cassie's funeral, he came back days later with a little girl. She hid timidly behind him, looking both adorable and pitiful.

"Say hello to Mrs. Clarke," he said while smiling, his voice sounding softer than I had ever heard.

If we had children, maybe he would've been a loving father. But in all these five years, I showed no signs of pregnancy and even blamed myself, until the hospital discovered that the problem was his low sperm count.

For the family's pride, Wendy begged me to keep it a secret.

As I stroked the little girl's hair, she obediently slipped her arms around my leg and was so sweet that I couldn't help but smile. "So, where did she come from?"

Harvey hesitated before saying, "She's Cassie's daughter."

The smile froze on my face, while Harvey got up and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Let's adopt her, honey."

The two figures, one tall and the other small, held me close. We must have looked like the perfect family to anyone watching, but deep down, my heart had long turned cold.

"Is the child's father dead too?" I heard myself asking in a startlingly calm voice.

Harvey rubbed his nose and replied, "No, but Cassie's husband can't possibly raise her alone. A child needs motherly love too. If he remarries, who knows what her stepmother will be like? Her life will be miserable."

I once heard a love quote that went something like, "If you love someone deep enough, you plan for their future."

I couldn't relate much back then, but now, it hit me like a blow and broke me apart.

"Those are just your assumptions."

Harvey's gaze sharpened. "When did you become so cold, Jilian?"

Then, his voice softened as he continued, "Plus, we don't have children anyway."

I gave a short, bitter laugh. "Is it my fault that we don't? Her father is still alive, and since she's not related to me or you by blood, what right do you have to talk about adopting her? If you're so eager to care for a child, the orphanage is full of them. You've been there with me enough times to know that those left behind are the ones with disabilities; they need love the most.

"Is this really about us not having kids, or is it because she's your first love's child?"

The little girl's wide, watery eyes met mine. I couldn't bear to look into her gaze, so I gently pressed my hands over her ears. And with that, Harvey and I erupted into the worst fight of our marriage.

I slammed the door behind me and shut myself in the guest room, leaving Harvey outside with nowhere to vent his anger.

So, this was what it felt like to refuse reason, throw words, and walk away. It felt almost satisfying.

It wasn't as if we had never fought before, but it usually ended with him slamming the door. By then, I always knew it meant he wouldn't bend and that I couldn't convince him.

My pillow was soaked as I broke down in aggrieved tears. Suddenly, a knock came from the door. I quickly wiped my face and smoothed my hair to make myself look less wretched.

Cassie's little girl was standing at the door, holding out a cup of milk. "Have some milk, Mrs. Clarke."

She was such a sweet, obedient child with eyes that seemed to hold stars. I looked behind her and saw that not far away, Harvey was smiling as he watched us. "Honey, you forgot your milk."

I had always struggled with getting quality sleep. The doctor said a cup of warm milk before bed would help, so fresh milk was delivered to our door every day. The woman who took my orders once told me, almost enviously, that my husband took really good care of me.

Every night, he'd warm the milk himself. Even if he couldn't make it home in time because of a business dinner, he'd text to remind me and demand a photo of an empty cup as proof.

I briefly drifted away and started wondering if I was too sensitive. But when I looked into the little girl's eyes, so much like the ones of the woman in the photos Harvey kept hidden in his drawer, I could only manage a bitter laugh.

"Just take it, honey. Munchkin's arms must be tired from holding it out for so long."

Munchkin, huh? The way it rolled off his tongue sounded so natural.

"It's alright. Children need to drink more milk to help with their growth, so tell her to drink it," I said, smiling before turning around to close the door.

Then, the strength drained out of me as I slid down against the door and collapsed onto the floor.

Through the door, I could hear Harvey's low, soothing voice comforting the child. "It's okay, munchkin. Your new mom will love you soon. I'll never send you back."

A crushing pressure kept building in my chest until I could barely breathe.

Then, the gentle ping of a message snapped me back.

[There's nothing wrong with her husband. He treated her well and took on all the house chores himself. Cassie didn't even need to work and spent her days having fun. He was the one in charge of raising the kid. If I were to point out a flaw, it's only that he isn't as rich or as promising as Harvey.]

I was terrified that my prejudice might push the little girl back to a dangerous father, so I had someone look into it. Turns out, that man was a good father and nothing like Harvey claimed.