2: 2

Dr. Matthews was surprised by what I asked for, but he pulled up the file and turned the screen toward me anyway.

The father's line read, in plain letters, Arthur. There was nothing left to lie to myself about.

A bitter laugh escaped me. When I'd found out she was pregnant, I'd been overjoyed, certain the baby was a gift heaven had given us.

I never imagined the truth was that behind my back she'd gotten pregnant with my best friend's child.

If I hadn't found out, I'd have spent the rest of my life raising it for them.

Back home, my mother-in-law glanced at me from the kitchen,

then launched into her usual scolding.

"Where have you been? You useless idiot. My daughter got the short end of the stick with you!"

I changed out of my shoes and stood up.

For once I didn't lower my eyes and apologize the way I always did.

Instead I looked straight at her.

"Do you know where Isabel went?"

She froze for a second, something uneasy flickering in her eyes.

"Where else? Work, obviously. You think it's easy, feeding a freeloader like you?"

"Sitting around all day with too much time to imagine things. Come wash your hands and eat."

Strange. Slow as I've always been, this time it hit me at once: she knew too.

I was the only one being kept in the dark.

I sat down at the table, numb, while she kept muttering.

I wanted to argue that I wasn't a freeloader. I didn't have a job, but my brush never stopped, and I earned more from my commissions than Isabel did as a captain.

It hurt me to watch her flying everywhere, wearing herself out, so after we registered the marriage I'd put all my commission money into the household, bought her nice clothes, paid for the premium wellness supplements and collagen tonics my mother-in-law lived on all year round.

But in this house I'd grown used to silence, and in the end I said nothing at all.

I ate without tasting any of it, then went to the kitchen to wash the dishes myself.

The pain in my stomach was getting worse, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

I dragged through it in a daze until three the next afternoon.

Isabel pushed the door open, Arthur following in behind her, grinning as he greeted me.

"Hey, man, I'm here. Came to see you, and my godson while I'm at it."

Isabel changed her shoes at the entryway, then reached over and tucked Arthur's sneakers into the closet for him.

She smiled and explained,

"Ran into Arthur right as I got out of the airport. He kept insisting he hadn't seen you in ages and made a fuss about tagging along."

I gave her a perfunctory glance, but there was no warmth in my eyes.

The day we registered our marriage, I'd teased her to put my shoes away in the rack for me, and she'd snapped, annoyed, "Don't you have hands, Ulysses? Your shoes are filthy, put them away yourself."

I'd thought she just had a thing about cleanliness. It never occurred to me she simply found me dirty.

Isabel came over and squeezed my hand.

"I know you've always wanted a wedding, so I had Arthur use AI to make some wedding photos of us."

She pulled a stack of photos out of her briefcase and handed them to me.

"Once I've had the baby, we'll go take the real ones."

I took them and flipped through. Arthur's face had been swapped out for mine. Nothing else had changed.

Really thought she could soothe me like I was some fool.

I drew a slow breath and lifted my head, looking straight into her eyes.

"What kind of AI makes an image this convincing, right down to the mole on his neck being exactly the same as Arthur's?"

3: 3

Isabel and Arthur lost their color at the same instant.

Then Isabel snatched the photo out of my hand and slapped it down on the coffee table.

"Since when did you get so impossible? If you don't want it, don't look at it!"

"Arthur was only trying to cheer you up. Is that a crime now?"

I wanted to argue. My mouth opened, but I couldn't put a single sentence together.

All through my life, whenever I was wronged or picked on, it was Arthur who stood up for me.

Later, once I started dating, Isabel took over the place Craig had held.

Countless times I'd thanked the heavens for how lucky I was, to have both of them at once.

And it was these two people, of all people, who could betray me at the same time.

Arthur came over and stepped in front of me,

his other hand steadying Isabel's arm.

"All right, all right, why are you being so fierce?"

"Go easy. It's bad for my little godson in there!"

Isabel let out a sigh, taking the cue,

"My tone was out of line."

"But Ulysses, you shouldn't throw Arthur's good intentions and mine back at us like this."

"The mole was probably just the AI glitching, a coding error."

My stomach, uneasy all along, turned over again, and I shook off Craig's hand and rushed to the bathroom to throw up.

When I finished I was nearly wrung out.

Arthur went pattering off to pour water and came back with quick little steps to hand it to me.

I rinsed, spat it out, and lifted my eyes.

His handsome face was drawn tight, and the ache flickering in his eyes didn't look faked.

Seeing me steady again, he let out a breath and helped me over to sit on the couch.

Half joking, he said,

"How is it Isabel's the pregnant one but you're the one throwing up? Hardly seems worth it."

"Yeah. It's not worth it."

I leaned back on the couch, turned my face toward him, and spoke in earnest.

"All through my life, you were always the best to me."

"Whatever you want, just tell me. I'm slow, but I'll give it to you even if it kills me."

Arthur looked away, flustered.

"Ugh, why are you suddenly getting so sappy on me!"

Isabel raised both hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, Ulysses's stomach's off and I'm pregnant."

"So today we'll just sample Arthur's cooking, then."

Arthur jumped right in, and the two of them played off each other all the way into the kitchen,

the mood so cozy there was no room for an outsider to break in.

After dinner, we each went back to our rooms.

Arthur used to say the two of us were the closest, so I had to keep a room for him in my wedding home too.

Back then I'd nodded hard and pleaded carefully for a long time before Isabel finally agreed to leave him the second bedroom, the one with the best light.

Now it turned out I'd never needed to grovel for it at all.

Isabel went to shower in the master bathroom.

Listening to the water running, I walked over to the clothes she'd changed out of.

Her underwear carried the heavy scent of men's cologne,

and I never wear cologne.

I pushed the clothes aside, picked up her phone. The lock screen was the photo we took the day we got our marriage license.

I thought for a moment, keyed in Arthur's birthday as the password, and it unlocked.

【Arthur: Let's set the wedding for that lucky date Ulysses picked. Also, I want to see the new lingerie you bought.】

【Isabel: Sure, I'll show you tonight.】

My vision went blurry again, and I quickly dug my nails into my palm to steady myself.

Ulysses Simmons, this time you have to stand up for yourself.

I scanned the login code into the messaging app on the tablet, then put her phone back.

Isabel came out of the shower, and I crouched down carefully and rubbed stretch-mark oil and moisturizer onto her belly.

"Babe, Larry asked me to cover a shift. I'm heading out now."

My nails bit into my palm. "Is it really just covering a shift? Can't you skip it?"

Isabel ruffled my hair.

"Don't think carrying your kid means you get to control me. I've got real work to do. Quit throwing a fit."

She gave my forehead a perfunctory kiss and left without looking back.

A few minutes later, Arthur pushed the door open without a care in the world.

"Ulysses, big brother's got plans tonight. I'll come find you tomorrow."

My heart was already bleeding, but my hands didn't stop as I messaged the lawyer.

"I want to file for divorce. What do I need to prepare?"

……

4: 4

I picked up the tablet and opened Isabel's social feed.

The tenth date we'd "chosen" for the wedding — she and Arthur were in Iceland watching the northern lights. Blocked from me only.

The ninth date — she and Arthur were at Mount Rainier under the cherry blossoms, soaking in hot springs. Blocked from me only.

The eighth date — she and Arthur were at the Grand Canyon, taking in the view. Blocked from me only.

……

I curled up on the bed like an infant and wept out loud.

There was nowhere to put the bitterness inside me, and I couldn't stop the thought from coming,

that maybe it would be better to go find my parents, gone so early, so I wouldn't have to hurt like this anymore.

I cried until I had nothing left, then forced myself up to gather my documents and paintings, and slept like the dead.

Maybe it was the swing of emotion. That night, stomach pain and a high fever swept over me together.

Half-conscious, I drifted back to our past.

Arthur and I were opposites from the start.

He was handsome and outgoing, the top student and campus heartthrob everyone chased after.

I was ordinary and shy, a poor student, and I only made it into a decent college on a little talent for painting in high school.

Yet two people this different somehow became the closest of friends.

I listened to him vent about his parents fighting and throwing things; he stood up for me when others picked on me for having no parents.

That was how we held each other up through so many years.

Wherever he was, no one could see me.

And just when I'd grown used to sitting in the audience clapping for him, Isabel appeared.

She held my face in her hands, so focused,

"Even with the sun that bright, a star can still shine its own light."

"I just think our Ulysses is the best of all."

Because of that one line, I willingly lived all these years like a tree.

Rooting myself down for her.

Learning, clumsily, to have everything ready for her, hoping only that she might pause and stay a while now and then.

But in the end, once the sun comes out, the stars can't be seen.

The next day when I woke, Arthur and Isabel were already home.

My stomach hurt, my head hurt, so I stayed in bed.

Arthur laughed and pulled off my blanket. "He used to just be dumb. Now he's dumb and lazy."

Isabel leaned into him, an arm around his waist. "Right, from now on we'll call him our dumb little lazy pig."

I pressed at my throbbing temple and suddenly didn't want to keep playing along with them.

"Isabel, let's get divorced."

Her eyes went wide, like she couldn't believe it.

"Divorce, just because I called you a dumb little lazy pig?"

"You think because I'm carrying your kid, you can jerk me around however you want?"

Arthur smoothed it over. "Ulysses probably just woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Come buy a pair of sneakers with me first. They drop today, actually. Let Ulysses cool off on his own."

There it was again. Sounding like he was taking my side, when really he was just shoving me aside.

Isabel nodded her agreement without a second thought.

But something in me wanted to try one last time. I lifted my head and caught her sleeve.

"Isabel, don't go. My stomach hurts."

She pried my fingers off one by one.

"Quit the act! Yeah, I'm carrying your kid, but that doesn't mean I got sold to you!"

She hooked her arm through Arthur's without hesitation and turned to leave.

No one noticed I'd been running a fever the whole time. No one noticed I'd packed up my paintings.

I let out a small, bitter laugh and sat there on the bed for a long while.

The stomach pain flared without warning, sharp enough to break me out in a cold sweat.

On reflex I called Isabel, only to find she'd blocked me again.

Every time we fought, Isabel would block me, then wait for me to come begging before she let me off the list.

But this time I wasn't going to beg.

Hands shaking, I called 911, and while I waited the tablet screen lit up.

A message in the group chat, "Family of Three."

Arthur: Then let's do a destination wedding in Aspen, family only. Don't set Ulysses off.

Isabel: Fine, we'll go today. I'm barely pregnant and he's already acting up. I'm not indulging that ugly little habit of his.

Isabel's mother: Arthur's just so accomplished and thoughtful. If only you'd been my son-in-law.

The ambulance came, and the crew carefully lifted me onto the stretcher. The doctor's tone was grim.

"This pain's gotten pretty serious. No one's been looking after you these past few days? We need to get you to the hospital right away."

A message alert came through on my phone. Isabel, of all things, was offering me a way to smooth it over.

Ulysses, got a last-minute flight assignment, out for half a month. Pack my bags for me, I'll swing by this afternoon to grab them.

But I didn't fire back a reply in a second the way I always had.

I just held on to the edge of the stretcher and begged the doctor to bring along the documents and paintings I'd packed.

After the emergency treatment was over, Isabel called that afternoon.

"What are you so busy with that you can't answer? You won't even pack my bags. Do you still want this kid or not?"

I looked at the IV line taped to my hand and answered, calm. "It's your kid. Keep it or don't, up to you."