Sharon returned to an empty house and started with the garbage.

Anything that reminded her of Andrew went straight into the trash.

Now that she had decided to leave, every trace of their shared past deserved to be discarded.

As she carried a heap of things downstairs, she saw Andrew’s car pull up. He hurried around to the passenger side to help Rebecca out.

Gently, he took the baby from Rebecca’s arms. “Tired? She’s been fussy all day. We’ll deal with the luggage tomorrow—the house has everything we need for now.”

Though his words held a hint of complaint, the smile never left his face.

Just then, a neighbor passed by, spotted Andrew, and offered a polite greeting.

“Oh, Mr. Andrew, you’re back? And Mrs. Andrew has already had the baby?”

Andrew slipped an arm around Rebecca and tilted the baby toward the neighbor.

“That’s right. Look at my daughter—adorable, isn’t she?”

“Absolutely adorable.”

Watching Andrew’s easy, unhesitating manner, Sharon froze where she stood.

It had been so long since she’d gone out with him. Lately, Rebecca had been over more and more often.

Now even the neighbors assumed Rebecca was Mrs. Andrew.

“Sharon?”

Andrew noticed her not far away and quickly approached. “It’s windy out. You’re pregnant—you should have waited inside.”

Sharon stared back, her expression blank. “When the neighbor called Rebecca ‘Mrs. Andrew,’ why didn’t you correct them?”

Andrew’s patience thinned. “It’s just a title. What matters is that Rebecca and I have a completely proper relationship. Isn’t that enough?”

Rebecca chimed in softly, “That’s right, Sharon. Andrew just didn’t want to embarrass me by making a scene. Please don’t overthink it.”

Sharon’s grip tightened around the trash bag, emotions churning inside her.

Judging by Rebecca’s demeanor, she intended to move in.

To think even her final days here would be tainted like this.

“It’s so late, Rebecca. Shouldn’t you be heading home? What are you doing here?”

Andrew cut in, “Her lease is up. She’s staying with us until she finds a new place.”

Sharon almost laughed. “If she knew her lease was ending, why didn’t she look sooner?”

“Wah… wah…”

The baby in Andrew’s arms began to cry, and with it, the last of his patience vanished.

“Sharon, when did you become like this? Rebecca’s already having a hard time. Whether you like it or not, she’s staying here from now on. If you don’t like it, you can go stay somewhere else for a while and come back later.”

Noticing the bag in her hand, he added offhandedly, “What’s that you’re holding?”

“Nothing. Just trash.”

“From now on, I’ll handle the heavy chores. You’re pregnant—you need to be careful.”

With that, he carried the baby upstairs, Rebecca following close behind.

Watching him go, Sharon let out a cold laugh.

So he still remembered she was pregnant.

This child—he had begged her for it.

He said he loved children, that he wanted her to give him one.

He called it the fruit of their love, promised to cherish her and their child forever.

Yet in just a few short months, all that devotion had shifted to someone else.

Sharon tossed the trash into the bin, then rested a hand lightly on her slightly rounded abdomen.

“Sweetheart,” she whispered. “Shall Mommy take you away from here?”

Andrew spent the entire evening cleaning the spare bedroom for Rebecca, not returning to their own room until well past midnight.

Sharon was still awake.

The early stages of her pregnancy had been brutal. She hadn’t eaten anything all evening, yet the nausea wouldn’t relent, sending her rushing to the bathroom again and again.

Watching her retch, Andrew’s heart ached. He wrapped his arms around her. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Just a little longer—for me and for the baby.”

But the scent of baby formula, Rebecca’s scent, still clung to him. Sharon’s stomach heaved again, worse than before.

Afterward, lying in bed, her throat burned. “I need some water.”

She’d barely gotten the words out when his phone rang.

“Andrew, the baby won’t settle. I can’t sleep. Can you come help me?”

“Of course. I’ll be right there.”

Hanging up, he glanced back at Sharon. “Try to get some sleep. Rebecca’s baby is only a month old—it’s a fussy stage. I need to go help. I probably won’t be back tonight.”

The door slammed shut with a final *thud*. Sharon licked her parched lips, pushed herself up, and went to the kitchen for water.

It didn’t matter. She was leaving him soon anyway. She wouldn’t rely on him anymore.

As she left her room and passed the spare bedroom, a sliver of light from the doorframe froze her in place.

On the large bed, Rebecca slept on the left side, the baby in the middle, and Andrew on the right.

The baby was asleep. Andrew was leaning in, chatting softly with Rebecca. Their shared laughter, their easy intimacy—they looked like a family.

“Andrew, when are you going to talk to Sharon about the divorce? What if she refuses?”

“She won’t. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll give you and the baby a proper home.”

He kissed her forehead, his voice gentle. “Go to sleep.”

A sharp, stabbing pain pierced Sharon’s chest. She couldn’t even remember the last time Andrew had kissed her like that, the last time he’d soothed her to sleep.

She didn’t sleep a wink. By morning, she was up early, gathering the documents for her immigration appointment.

She was halfway through breakfast when Andrew came downstairs.

“Sharon, after you finish eating, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

She wiped the corner of her mouth. “What is it?”

“Let’s get a divorce.”

Five words. She’d known they were coming, but the speed still caught her off guard.

“Alright.” Her voice was calm as she carried her bowl and chopsticks to the sink. “Draw up the papers. I’ll sign them.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just for show. Once we establish paternity for Rebecca’s baby, we’ll remarry right away. Sharon, I love you. I love our baby, too.”

He came up behind her, his large hands settling on her still-flat stomach. Their child was in there. He would never truly abandon Sharon. He just couldn’t bear to leave Rebecca alone with a child, either.

Sharon nodded. “I understand. You’re worried about her being alone, worried about her child. I get it. It’s fine. Just get the paperwork to me as soon as you can.”

Her tone was flat, her eyes devoid of any ripple of emotion—not even a flicker of sorrow. Her calmness unsettled him.

“Sharon, you know Rebecca and Christopher never officially married. The baby needs a legal guardian; it’s bad for her future. The moment the registration is done, I’ll divorce Rebecca immediately. Please don’t overthink this.”

He kept explaining, unaware that Sharon’s disappointment in him had long since curdled into something cold and final.

She heated a glass of milk for herself and took a small sip. “Yes. I know.”

“You’re so understanding, Sharon.”

He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, then turned and hurried back upstairs.

Rebecca was waiting for him. “Well? Did she agree?”

“She did! She agreed! Rebecca, don’t worry, I’ll give our baby a home very soon.”

They embraced, elated, completely oblivious to Sharon standing at the foot of the stairs, a stack of immigration forms clenched in her hand.

She looked away, turned, and walked out the door.

*Andrew, if this is what you want, so be it.*