Once upon a time, his jokes and expressions had made me happy, but today they felt dull and meaningless.

His clumsy attempts to entertain me were nothing more than a façade to hide his cheating. The louder he tried to be, the clearer his mistakes became.

Silently, I pushed him away. I ignored the hurt that flickered in his eyes and told him to go shower.

As the sound of running water filled the air, I stared at his shadow through the frosted glass and made up my mind. Eventually, I typed out a message and sent it.

“Doctor, I’ve decided to proceed to terminate the pregnancy. Please help me schedule the procedure.”

The child I had once eagerly waited for so much was ultimately not destined to be with me. If I could not provide it with a loving, stable family, perhaps it was better for it not to be born.

Martin habitually began preparing his clothes for the next day, his voice calling out to me without stopping, “Wife, where’s my black tie?” then, “Wife, have you seen my white pants?”

Sighing, I entered the room and fetched the items he needed.

From behind, he wrapped his arms around me and planted kisses on the back of my neck.

The sound of his ragged breathing shot to her heart from her ear. It was like venom that made my whole-body shudder in revulsion.

“Wife, how would I even survive without you?” he seduced me. His hand wandered all over my body but when he turned me around to face him, his movements froze.

“Cathy William, why do you look so pale?” he asked. He looked at me with eyes full of love, they seemed genuine, not a trace of deception in there.

“You should come to the office with me tomorrow,” he added. “Or, I’d worried about your well-being.”

I shook my head without offering any explanation.

“Honey, are you still upset about … that incident?” he asked cautiously.

We both knew what he was talking about, though neither of us dared to address it directly.

“No,” I replied, my tone even. “Don’t overthink it.”

Forcing myself to suppress the revulsion, I patted his shoulder reassuringly.

Martin took the opportunity to act intimate with me, then walked into the bathroom to take a shower.

When I heard the sound of running water in the bathroom, I picked up his phone and unlocked it with ease. The password was still my birthday. He had not changed it.

The chat history was filled only with business matters. Unconsciously, I opened Jenna's Instagram account.

“Afternoon tea from the boss. Love it! It's so delicious.”

“On a business trip with the boss, he gifted me this necklace! I really love it!”

“Who else has a boss who gives six-figure birthday bonuses?”

Every post was about Martin. From Paris to Italy to Japan, they had traveled together, leaving a trail of picturesque memories at countless scenic spots. The girl in the photo smiled sweetly, with endless love in her eyes.

Though Martin was not in any of the photos, I knew. The one behind the camera was him.

A sharp pain pierced my chest as my gaze shifted to his briefcase. Quietly, I retrieved his backup phone from a hidden compartment. Luckily, the password was still my birthday.

The bitterness was unbearable, like swallowing bile. How could someone who claimed to love me so deeply still stray so far in our marriage?

I opened Jenna's chat. On the last conversation on the chat page, Jenna asked Martin, "Boss, after Cathy gives birth, will you still treat me this well?”

She added the text with a playful and coquettish selfie of hers.

Mark only replies with a simple. "Mm."

I couldn’t bear to scroll further. The moment the sound of the shower stopped, I quickly turned off the phone's screen and returned the spare phone to his briefcase.

He hugged me from behind and said the usual love words to coax and reassure me that he loved me.

However, gradually, my mind wandered.

Martin, when you say you love me, who are you really thinking of? When you look at me, whose face do you see?

In hindsight, I should’ve known that something was wrong when the first time I met Jenna. She was like a mirror image of me.

Back then, Martin had simply laughed it off and said it was a coincidence.

Later, over time, as Martin's secretary, the frequency of her calling him increased exponentially and her reasoning became even more trivial, like fixing pipes, changing light bulbs and finding a missing cat or ID card. Jenna could always summon him away with only just minor reasoning.

“She’s just a young girl trying to make her way in the world,” Martin would coax me. He would say, “She reminds me so much of you back in the day.”

Every single time he held me in his arms, he would coax me, “You’re the only one I’ll ever love in this lifetime.”

However, this time, I could not bring myself to believe him.

The lies Martin told me and the sincerity he showed Jenna became the sharp dagger that pierced my heart.

The next morning, I woke up because of Jenna's voice.

When I opened the door, I saw Jenna and Martin standing in front of the dining table, playfully dividing breakfast into plates.

“Stop it,” he said.

“Boss, feed me!” Jenna pouted and inched closer to him.

Martin sighed, amused and picked up a slice of sandwich from the table, moving to feed her.

Jenna took the opportunity to bite Martin's fingers, her bright eyes brimming with mischief.

He tried tickling her to make her let go and amidst their antics, his gaze locked with mine.

Startled, he reflexively pushed Jenna aside, his face pale as he hurriedly walked toward me.

“Did we wake you up?” he asked.

Pretending not to see their interaction, I shook my head. However, out of nowhere, Jenna squeezed herself between me and Martin.

"Cathy," she said. "Boss really loves you so much, you know. Look, he even went out to buy you breakfast himself! It's your favorite, meat buns and strawberry shortcakes!"

"Huh," she joked. "I just got a measly sandwich. He's really a stingy boss!"

She giggled while throwing playful looks at Martin, who responded with a helpless yet indulgent smile.

My gaze was directed to her then fell into the delicate necklace around her neck. It was a Van Cleef & Arpels.

That receipt for the necklace? It was still sitting in the pocket of Martin’s coat.

I once thought it was a surprise gift for me, but now it adorned Jenna's neck.

“Well, it’s fine if the boss doesn’t treat you well,” I said coolly, pulling my hand away. “After all, Miss Miller seems perfectly capable of treating herself. You were able to buy a necklace so expensive just like that.”

Then I turned and walked to the table to sit down.

Behind me, the two of them were still standing in place, one looking flustered while the other smiling.

The breakfast felt tasteless in my mouth.

Before we left, Martin pestered me to accompany him to the office. I actually did not want to but I did not have the energy to refuse. So, I reluctantly agreed.

However, Jenna got to the front passenger seat first. As she rolled down the window, she said, "I easily get carsick if I sit on the back. You don't mind sitting on the back today, right Cathy?"

I turned to look at Martin, who had not gotten into the car yet, but all I could see was his embarrassment.

"Cathy, Jenna's stomach hasn't been okay in these past few days …."

I did not let him finish his sentences. I just opened the door and got into the back seat.

The bumps in the back made my abdomen tighten painfully and cold sweat dripped down my back. I had to grip the handle tightly to steady myself.

At the front, Martin and Jenna were talking and laughing merrily as if there was not that third person in the car.

"Cathy, why are you sweating?"

At the red light, Martin finally remembered my existence and glanced at the back toward me.

I forced myself to smile and shook my head.

From then on, he kept looking back at me. His concern was evident. He even did not realize that he had run a red light.

The whole world might see him as a devoted, loving husband, but only I knew that his heart was slowly leaning toward someone else.

Martin himself did not realize it but undeniably his heart leaned toward Jenna. The woman who, in his own words, reminded him so much of me.

Martin would make time to hug me even though he was so busy. From the eyes of the outsider, we were an inseparable and loving couple.

I gazed into his eyes, and it was as though I could see the depths of Martin’s mind. There, Jenna’s furrowed brows and soft smiles lingered, occupying far more space than I ever could. Perhaps I accounted for a mere five percent.

The realization left me feeling suffocated. I mumbled an excuse and stepped outside to catch my breath, to avoid lashing out at him.

He watched me go, his eyes brimming with a quiet plea, a touch of hurt, and an unspoken challenge.

“Wow, is that the boss’s wife? She’s stunning,” a voice whispered nearby.

“Yeah, she and the boss are simply a match made in heaven.”

“But don’t you think the boss’s wife looks just like Jenna? It’s uncanny.”

“Maybe the boss is just hopelessly in love, and his secretary is a stand-in for her?”

Their murmurs reached me, though I stood a distance away, watching Jenna from the corner of my eye. Her gaze was locked on Martin, her reddened eyes revealing too much. When she turned, our eyes met.

Her look spoke of resignation—an emotion that I couldn’t quite unravel. Was she unwilling to be my double? Or was she unwilling to be just my double?

Later, in the break room, I placed a steaming cup of coffee before her. Jenna hesitated, then shook her head.

“I’m pregnant,” she said quietly.

The cup seemed to burn in my hand, as if it carried the weight of a thousand revelations. My grip faltered, but I forced myself to sit across from her, steady and composed.

So that’s why Martin had been so attentive, so careful.

“I don’t even know if I should congratulate you…” I began, my words heavy with ambiguity.

Her response cut me short. “I’m going to terminate the pregnancy.”

I slid a surgery consent form and a divorce agreement across the table toward her.

“If you can get Martin to sign these, then his position—everything—will be yours.”

“Really?” she asked, her tone a mixture of disbelief and suspicion.

I nodded, resolute. I had no room for deceit, nor tolerance for a marriage where five people occupied the same space.

I didn’t know how Jenna managed to get his signature, but the documents returned to me bore Martin’s unmistakable handwriting. Strangely, it seemed he hadn’t even realized what he had signed.

On the day of the surgery, my mother—who had been abroad—returned unexpectedly.

“I’ll be staying with you,” she said firmly, her gaze unwavering.

Her next words sent a shiver down my spine.

“Your brother is here too.”

My breath hitched. She was referring to Harry, her second husband’s son—my stepbrother and childhood playmate.

Years ago, when I refused to emigrate for the sake of Martin, Harry had stormed off, severing contact with me entirely. Ten years of silence followed.

I nodded in acknowledgment, though unease settled in my chest. There was no time to dwell on the past. My priorities were clear: end this pregnancy and finalize the divorce.

Fate, however, had other plans.

At the hospital, my mother and I ran into Martin, who was accompanying Jenna for a check-up. Across the bustling corridor, his gaze found mine.

“Cathy.” he called out, his voice filled with disbelief.

He pushed through the crowd, his steps frantic. But the moment his eyes landed on my mother, he froze.

“Mom? Why are you back?”

Though my mother didn’t yet know the full story, her sharp instincts never failed her.

“Just tying up some loose ends,” she replied, her tone neutral but cutting.

Their exchange blurred in my ears as my attention shifted to Jenna, who stood nearby. The scene before me was eerily familiar, like the day of the fire—Martin running from her side to mine.

I watched her through the crowd. In this love triangle—or square—there were always too many people. Always someone left crowded out.

“Honey,” Martin stammered, pulling out his phone. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “Today isn’t your maternity check-up, is it?”

A fine sweat even broke out on Martin’s forehead as he pulled out his cell phone and looked at the calendar's schedule.

The memo densely recorded all of my postpartum checkup data, the places that needed attention.

As well as which days I felt sick, what I ate, and how many times I threw up.

The strings of words and numbers were like densely packed needles that stung my eyes.

An unbearable bitterness surged through me, threatening to drown me. That overwhelming love I once felt for him came crashing back like a relentless tide, suffocating me.

I swallowed my sobs and said calmly, "I just came here to pick a report. '

Martin exhaled a sigh of relief and turned around to look at Jenna who was standing not too far away. 

"Honey, please don't misunderstand. Just now, Jenna suddenly felt nauseous. So, I don't have a choice but to bring her here for a check-up. "

I acted as if I hadn’t noticed the maternity booklet in Jenna’s hand, lowering my eyes and clenching my fists.

Nausea was real but the doctor’s visit was a pretense. 

Martin had mastered weaving the deception into the truth, to make a believable lie.

In the past, I used to be so stupid and naïve. I always believed everything that he said, so I missed a lot of opportunities to uncover the truth.

“It’s fine. Her health is more important. I’ll just grab my report and leave,” I said, feigning indifference as I patted his shoulder.

He let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief and told me, “Wait for me and we’ll head home together.”

I neither agreed nor refused.

As I turned away, tears escaped and rolled down my face.

Martin, do you even realize that you are about to lose both me and your child forever?

When he disappeared around the corner, I opened the door, walked to the operating room, changed my clothes into a hospital gown and lay on the bed to wait for the doctor to do the surgery.

In the stillness of the empty operating room. I could hear the sound of the heartbeats of mine and my baby.

My mind was filled with memories of happiness that I shared in the past with Martin. Yet, those countless sweet memories now felt like shards of sharp glass that pierced my heart.

I saw again the frantic panic in his expression before he left, a cruel ghost of our past.

Just as I closed my eyes, a commotion erupted outside.

“Sir, you can’t barge in here. This is a restricted area.”

“Sir, please stop!”

I opened my eyes only to see nurses trying to block someone, it was Martin. 

His eyes were red and he rushed forward like a madman while shouting my name, "Cathy!"