Later in the evening, Jesus still hadn't returned home. This time, he actually called instead of staying over at Catalina's without saying a word.

When I answered, I heard a sweet female voice. "Cali, it's Catalina. Jesus can be so proud and stubborn. I'm apologizing on his behalf. He was just worried and didn't mean to lose his temper with you. You know, one day together is worth a hundred. Now that you're expecting, don't let any argument come between you and Jesus because of me."

Her voice carried no real apology, only a subtle attempt to assert her influence over my life. Previously, I would have snapped back and called her out for her feigned vulnerability and innocence. But this time, I chose not to engage. I no longer cared about Jesus, let alone his so-called soulmate.

"This is between Jesus and me; it's none of your concern. If you have nothing else to say, I'm ending this call."

As I was about to hang up, Catalina began to cry. "Cali, I meant well. How could you humiliate me like this? I'm not a homewrecker, nor am I trash. My relationship with Jesus is pure!"

I was taken aback. What was she talking about? Before I could respond, Jesus grabbed the phone and started yelling. "Cali, what nonsense are you pulling now? Your words are truly venomous. Who raised you to be so uncultured?"

"I've told you countless times, I only see Catalina as a sister! Apologize to her now, or this time, I'm really divorcing you!"

When we were dating, Jesus would often threaten to break up, and after marriage, it became the threat of divorce. He used these threats to manipulate me into submission, even when I was not to blame. But this time, I had no intention of backing down.

"Do whatever you want," I replied coldly.

I hung up and immediately blocked all his contacts. My body still needed time to heal, and the stitches throbbed painfully. But what hurt the most was my heart. Thinking of my poor child, who didn't even get a chance to see the world, I broke down in tears again.

Once my emotions settled, I packed up all my belongings and the things I had prepared for the baby. I glanced at the clock. It was late. Jesus probably wouldn't be home tonight.

It might have been the exhaustion from packing all day, coupled with the fact that I hadn’t yet recovered from the procedure, but that night a high fever hit me hard.

In a haze, I sensed someone beside me.

Rolling over was a struggle, and my throat was so dry and sore that I couldn’t make a sound.

Then I felt a gentle hand lifting me up and offering me some warm tea.

The relief was immediate, and I was ready to drift back into a deep sleep when the familiar figure swam into focus—it was Jesus.

He was holding a red thread in his hand, and it swayed before my eyes. At the end of it, there was a talisman.

The scent of alcohol hung around him, and emboldened by his inebriated state, he began to whisper in my ear.

“Sweetheart, look, I went out of my way to get you a protection talisman today! For the safety of both you and the baby!”

“My love, Catalina doesn’t have any family left; in this world, I’m the only one she has. Why do you feel the need to target her all the time? I chose to marry you; you’re the one who won.”

“When the baby comes, you can’t afford to be so petty. I’m sure the child wouldn’t want a resentful mother!”

My mind snapped to attention at the mention of a child, and I flung away the talisman that Jesus claimed to have fetched from the Alps.

Sitting up, I looked at Jesus with cold, unwavering eyes.

“Did you get this specifically for me? Or did you just grab an extra while you were getting one for Catalina?”

For a moment, Jesus was taken aback, not expecting this reaction from me.

In the past, whenever we fought or fell silent, he’d only need to offer me a small olive branch, and I’d be quick to reconcile.

But this time, even though I recognized his attempt at making peace, I chose to ignore it.

Seeing my demeanor, Jesus grew agitated and tossed the talisman onto the floor.

“Is this what you call love, Cali? Just because I went to check on Catalina when she had a fever, you’ve turned this into such a big issue? Can’t you just let this minor thing slide?”

I pressed my lips together, remaining silent.

For years, Jesus had taken my love for granted, using it as a ticket to hurt me without hesitation.

Haven’t I been forgiving enough?

Whenever I needed him, he was never there; every single time Catalina would come up with some flimsy excuse to drag him away.

Holidays and anniversaries were even worse; I never saw a trace of him on those special days. Every year, without fail, Catalina would mysteriously come down with something, demanding his presence.

During my pregnancy, it became more evident. I attended every prenatal appointment alone, watching other expectant mothers with their husbands and feeling both envy and sadness.

And this time, just because Catalina craved a spiced honey cake, I lost my child forever.

Perhaps the severity of my expression silenced Jesus for a while. Eventually, in a low voice, he muttered:

“Sweetheart, I won’t contact her anymore. Can we not fight about this?”

“Our baby’s going to be born soon. I promised you that I’d take you and our child to see every beautiful place in the country. We could be a happy family together, couldn’t we?”

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

He’s said these words too many times before, vowing to sever ties with her, yet never following through.

The moment Catalina called, he would be gone in a flash.

Noticing that I wasn’t as quick to forgive as before, he grabbed a pillow and blanket in a fit and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.