I gently touched my stomach, feeling a wave of sadness wash over me. The emotional weight of the pregnancy test was something only I could truly comprehend. It was my own flesh and blood, making it hard to let go.

Since I became pregnant, he hadn’t bothered to stay by my side. Instead, he let his assistant, Anastasia, flaunt herself in front of me repeatedly. Every time I asked him to stay with me, to give me a little motivation, he’d cite being busy as an excuse while gallivanting around with her. Meetings turned into spa hotel getaways with Anastasia; business trips became bikini holidays in the Caribbean. Incidents like this happened more times than I could count.

I cried and fought, but he never took it seriously. He’d dismiss me with, “She’s just an assistant, what could we possibly have? I want to understand you better, so I connect with her because women understand women better. It’s strictly professional—nothing more than friendship at best.” But today, catching them in our bed, naked, and hearing their whispered words, I realized it was time to end it all.

As the cold liquid coursed through my veins, I gradually lost sensation in my limbs. After the procedure, lying in the hospital bed, I took my phone from the nurse. Instantly, a barrage of missed calls and messages from Harrison appeared on the screen.

“I’m fed up. You’re not answering calls or texts. I’ve just been busy and couldn’t join you for the pregnancy tests. I promise I’ll come next time!”

“Besides, you’ve done so many of these already, you should be used to it. I even had Galilea make spiced honey cake for when you return. Don’t say I don’t care and pick fights with me.”

“Come on, honey, I’m tired too. Don’t throw a tantrum, okay? And don’t use the silent treatment to get my attention. You know I love you.”

Had I not witnessed what I saw this afternoon, I might have actually believed he loved me. In the past, receiving such messages would have made me happy that he reached out, and I might have even apologized. Now, I closed out of the chat, set my phone to Do Not Disturb, and pretended I hadn’t seen anything.

“Ding,” a new message popped up.

“Hey, my boyfriend accidentally tore all my stockings this afternoon. Do you have any recommendations for brands? And if you have suggestions for lingerie, that’d be great, too! You’ve been married for so long, you surely know what men like better than I do.”

Attached was an image of torn stockings littering the floor and a familiar corner of the room. Was she unable to contain herself any longer, aiming for a promotion by flaunting this at me? Waves of heartache crashed over me.

The searing pain in my heart overshadowed the post-anesthetic discomfort. Looking at my bloodstained palm, I let out a surprising chuckle of relief.

The doctor, Jose, checked on me and said everything was fine; I could go home and recover. I packed my things and left the hospital. At home, there was no one. Oddly, I didn’t feel disappointed or angry, only a sense of release. Hadn’t I foreseen this outcome?

I walked into the bedroom, where the mess from this afternoon had been tidied up, leaving no trace of what had occurred. Still, I couldn’t bear it and decided to replace everything in my room.

Once everything was sorted, I felt an unusual lightness, as if I were walking on clouds. Opening the fridge, I found nothing but drinks and beer. The sight of leftover pulled pork didn’t stir my appetite. In the kitchen, I found a pack of near-expired pasta and started boiling water.

"Miss Lawson, you’re back! Why didn’t you let us know? We could have come over to cook for you..."

I turned to see Galilea, the housekeeper Harrison had hired.

"Miss Lawson, the chicken soup has gone cold. Let me warm it up for you. You don’t look well; some soup might do you good..."

Harrison always said I was his princess, and a princess shouldn't have to do housework. He hired a top-notch housekeeper to take care of my meals and daily needs. Since I valued peace and quiet, she would only come over for cooking and cleaning, living next door the rest of the time.

"Miss Lawson... Miss Lawson?"

I snapped back to reality, taking a deep breath and calmly instructed, "No need to reheat it. You can have the soup yourself; I'm not really hungry. Could you make me a light pasta dish instead?"

Galilea nodded and headed to the kitchen. Before long, she brought the pasta to me.

"Miss Lawson, I used the skimmed fat from the chicken soup as the base. After all, Mr. Hall called this afternoon before he left to ask me to come over. He cares so much for you, so you should at least taste his effort."

I quietly accepted the dish and slowly ate.

"I see. You can head home now; come back tomorrow to clean up."

After she left, I found the chicken soup pasta to be a bitter irony. Yet, there was no point in dwelling on it; soon enough, our ties would be severed completely.

After finishing the bowl of pasta, I lay down on the bed and gradually drifted off to sleep...

Around three or four in the morning, the door creaked open, filling the room with the overpowering scent of perfume mixed with alcohol.

"Darling, did I wake you? I'm so sorry. Just got back from a work dinner and it's late..."

He stared at the ceiling in a daze as he approached me, wrapping his arms around me with a hint of guilt in his eyes. He kissed my cheek.

Thinking about how those lips had been entangled with someone else just hours before made me feel nauseous. I pushed him away, rushing into the bathroom to frantically scrub the spot he had kissed.

Seeing this, he followed me in, wrapping his arms around me again.

"What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again? You’ve been through this several times now; it’s common, right?"

He reeked of the custom cologne I'd gifted to his assistant. I closed my eyes briefly, fighting back the urge to vomit, and shook my head while pushing him away.

"I'm fine, just a bit uncomfortable."

"Is it the baby causing you discomfort again? I've told you, being pregnant can be such a pain. You’re going through all this suffering without knowing if the child will even pass any tests... I mentioned before, we don’t really need a child. We could just be a childfree couple, and now..."

His words faded as he noticed my pale face, a flash of pity crossing his eyes. He left to fetch me a glass of warm water, then attempted to carry me to the hospital.

"Don’t touch me!"

"I'm fine! I just need to rest, no need for the hospital."

Caught off guard by my resistance, he paused, perhaps thinking I was simply tired of the frequent hospital visits.

He set down the water and went to grab a variety of snacks.

"See if there’s anything you might want to eat. Is morning sickness bothering you? Maybe eating something will help."

"Is there anything else that’s bothering you? How can I help?"

He had no idea that after the procedure, there was no more pregnancy, no more sickness. What made me sick was his very presence.

"Take those away. I don’t want anything. I just need to lie down and rest."

I sidestepped him, heading back to bed.

"You should take a shower. You smell awful, honestly."

My words were pointedly clear.

"Pregnancy makes you so sensitive. If you don’t appreciate it, fine..."

He muttered under his breath. Before, I might have fought him on that, but now, I saw no point...

Harrison noted my lack of response and began cleaning up the snacks he’d brought, then went to shower.

Afterward, he quietly sat next to me, placing a hot water bottle on my legs and covering my hands.

If I hadn’t seen with my own eyes, heard with my own ears, and felt his behavior, I might still have thought of him as a good husband.