At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name.

The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit.

Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time.

I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership.

I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.]

Today was December 30.

My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.]

Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

The smile on Zachary White's face froze instantly. The arm he had wrapped around that woman went rigid and dropped to his side. He strode toward me with his brows furrowed, as if I were the one who had done something wrong.

"Cece, what are you doing here? Why didn't you answer my messages?"

I finally recognized the woman behind him, the one the staff had called 'Ms. Anderson'. Emma Anderson, the daughter of his late mentor whom he always talked about.

She wore a simple white dress with her long hair loose over her shoulders. Her face was pale. She looked utterly pitiful.

I did not answer Zachary's question. I simply shifted my gaze from the screen that recorded another woman's preferences in such detail and slowly raised my eyes to his face.

My voice came out calm, betraying nothing. "Weren't you working late?"

Zachary took a deep breath, as if struggling to suppress some emotion. He did not answer directly. Instead, he stepped forward and tried to take my hand. Yet I instinctively pulled away.

His hand hung awkwardly in midair. His expression darkened further. "Can we talk about this at home? There are too many people here."

Emma stepped forward timidly from behind him, her eyes rimmed with red. "Zach, this is all my fault. Did I cause a misunderstanding with Cecilia? Let me explain right now. I begged Zach to lend me this card. My health hasn't been good, and my doctor said I need regular treatments, but I can't afford them..."

As she spoke, tears began streaming down her face.

"Cecilia, please don't blame Zach for this. He's only helping me because he feels sorry for me. The birthday treatment is a surprise he prepared for me. He said I never had a proper birthday growing up.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know this card was so important to you. I won't use it ever again!"

What a performance of twisting the truth. She painted herself as completely innocent, pinning everything on Zachary's kindness and my supposed overreaction.

Zachary immediately defended her, his tone carrying obvious reproach, but it was directed at me. "Cece! Don't do this. Em's health is really poor. You're scaring her."

When he turned back to Emma, his voice turned soft and tender. "It's okay, Em. Don't cry. This isn't your fault. I didn't think it through. I should've told Cee beforehand. Go inside for your treatment, and don't catch a cold."

He even thoughtfully removed his suit jacket and draped it over Emma's shoulders, over her thin dress.

At that moment, I felt cold all over. It was late December in Halfort. The outdoor temperature hovered near freezing. Due to pregnancy swelling, I could only wear flat shoes. My ankles were exposed, the wind cutting through me. Yet all he cared about was whether another woman might catch a cold.

I watched them, so wrapped up in each other that they seemed to forget I was standing there. My chest tightened. Every breath hurt.

"Zachary," I called, my voice trembling slightly from cold and anger. "Why did you give that card to Emma?"

He hesitated, then frowned. "What's the big deal? I already told you, didn't I? She's my mentor's daughter. I gave her the card because I wanted you two to get along better. I did it for your sake."

"For my sake?" I almost laughed out loud. "So that means using my money to arrange exclusive, personalized services for her?"

My question made him lose his dignity, and his tone turned cold.

"Cecilia, do you have to be so unreasonable? Em's father showed me great kindness. On his deathbed, he asked me to look after her. What else could I do?

"She's an orphan with no family, and her health is poor. What's wrong with helping her? It's just a few thousand dollars in treatments. That's nothing for our household. Can't you be a little more generous?"

"Generous?" I repeated the word. It felt absurd.

He always had endless reasons.

Emma was his mentor's daughter, so she needed his care. Emma's health was poor, so she needed his concern. Emma was alone in the world, so he had to give her the warmth of family.

What about me? I was carrying his child. What did that make me?

In the end, this standoff concluded with my retreat. I did not want to make a scene in public like some shrew. That would only make me look more pathetic.

Zachary drove me home. The atmosphere in the car was suffocatingly tense the entire way.

He seemed to realize his words had been too harsh. He softened his tone and started trying to placate me.

"Alright, Cece, don't be angry. It was my fault. I should've told you beforehand. I promise it won't happen again. I'll change the password on that card tomorrow. From now on, only you can use it. Is that okay?"

He parked the car downstairs and turned to take my hand. His palm was warm and dry, capable of providing a sense of security as always.

"As for Em, I'll be more careful about boundaries from now on. But she is my mentor's only living relative. I can't just abandon her completely. Just take pity on her and don't hold it against her, okay? She's different from you. You grew up cherished by your parents, and now you have me. She has nothing."

This script was no different from the one I had heard countless times before.

I was tired. I did not want to argue anymore. I nodded and said quietly, "I'm not feeling well. I want to go upstairs and rest."

Seeing that I was no longer pressing the issue, he visibly relaxed. A smile returned to his face. "That's right. Pregnant women shouldn't get angry all the time. It's bad for the baby. Come on, let your husband carry you upstairs."

He was always so attentive to me. He peeled fruit for me. When I was sick with morning sickness, he patiently rubbed my back and helped me breathe. If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I might have believed he truly loved me.

Just like that, the matter seemed closed.

Zachary did as he promised. The next day, he went to the spa and changed the password. He canceled the secondary card, leaving only the primary card in my hands. He became even more gentle and considerate toward me, practically granting my every wish.

My mother hired the best nutritionist, who prepared different broths and nutrient-rich meals for me every day to support the pregnancy. The first thing Zachary did when he came home from work each day was make sure I finished the broth.

"You've worked hard, honey. For our baby's sake, drink a little more." He would carefully skim the oil off the surface with a spoon and feed it to me spoonful by spoonful.

I was almost fooled by this version of him, convinced that everything at the spa that day had been nothing but my imagination.

Until one day, I accidentally discovered an identical thermos in the trunk of his car. It was empty, but the inside still carried the faint scent of herbal broth and chicken.

That was the broth I had drunk the day before. I remembered clearly. I did not like the taste of the herbs, so I only drank half a bowl of it.

Zachary took the remaining half, saying it would go to waste otherwise. He claimed he would drink it himself. It turned out he had not drunk it. He had packed it up and given it to Emma, who apparently also needed the nutrition.

My heart sank to the bottom at that moment. I did not make a fuss. I simply placed the thermos back where I found it.

A few days later, it was time for my prenatal checkup. Zachary had promised long ago that he would come with me, but just as we were about to leave, he took a phone call. His expression changed instantly.

"What? A leak? Alright, drive carefully on your way back. I'll head over right away!"

He hung up and looked at me apologetically. "Cece, I'm sorry. The pipes burst in Em's apartment. The place is flooded right now. She's on her way back, and I need to go help her deal with it."

"Can you have my mom go with you to the checkup? I'll head straight to the hospital as soon as I'm done here."

Emma again. Her emergencies always came at such convenient times.

I looked at his anxious face and asked calmly, "Is it that important? More important than our child?"

He froze, as if he had not expected me to ask that.

"Cece, how can you say that? These are two completely different things. This is a safety hazard. There could be danger! The prenatal checkup is just a routine examination. With Mom there, you'll be fine. Be good and don't overthink it."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll be back soon."

With that, he grabbed his car keys and left without looking back. The moment the door closed, the living room fell into dead silence. He said to have his mom go with me, but his mother was on vacation in the tropics. Zachary knew this better than anyone.

Half a month ago, he had personally driven her to the dock, smiling as he told her to have fun. He said he would take care of me at home, so she should enjoy herself without worry.

My chest tightened. I could barely breathe. I leaned against the wall and took slow, deep breaths. I could not get worked up. Not for the baby's sake.

It was fine. I could do this without him.

I picked up my phone, about to call my best friend, Leah Palmer, to come with me. However, I remembered she had an important contract negotiation today. I did not want her distracted because of me.

I would go alone. I changed my clothes and headed down to the parking garage.

I walked to our usual parking spot and stopped short. The space was empty. My white sedan was gone.

That car had been a gift from my father on my 20th birthday. He said he hoped my journey through life would always be smooth and easy.

That car had been with me from college graduation to my marriage to Zachary. It was one of my most treasured possessions.

Zachary had said that now that I was pregnant, I should not drive, so I had not checked on my car in nearly six months.

A wave of intense unease washed over me.

With trembling hands, I dialed Zachary's number. The phone rang for a long time before he picked up. In the background, I could hear the chaotic sound of rushing water and Emma's delicate sobbing.

"Hello, Cece? What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?" Zachary's voice sounded impatient. "I'm dealing with a situation here. The shutoff valve is stuck, and water's going everywhere."

I forced myself to stay calm and asked, "Zachary, where's my car?"

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

"Oh, the car." His tone was casual. "Em lives in a remote area. It's hard to get rides there. I let her use it to get around a while back. I forgot to tell you. Did you need the car today? Just hail a cab to the hospital. It's easy enough."