The year I asked for a divorce, Caleb Thorne had only one request: give the Thorne family a child. After five years of struggling, I finally got pregnant. But instead of joy, he pinned me against the wall like a madman, eyes red, demanding to know whose bastard it was. I stared at the vasectomy report he threw in my face, eyes stinging, voice gone. No wonder it took so long to conceive. It turns out he had cut off my path from the very beginning. For a moment, I just wanted to laugh. Laugh until I cried. "Yes, I cheated." "I admitted it. Will you let me go now? Caleb." 1 Midnight. The man I hadn't seen for two months pushed open the bedroom door, carrying the biting cold of the snowstorm outside. I had just turned a page of my parenting book. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. His icy hand grabbed my wrist, dragging me all the way to the bathroom and pinning me against the cold tiles. "Explain." The damp, freezing tiles made my back shiver. I tried to get up, but he pinned my wrists back down. "Explain what?" I stared straight back at him. His dark pupils were full of mockery, his gaze dropping to my still-flat belly. "What do you think?" "While your husband is overseas, you couldn't wait to carry some wild man's seed just to complete your task?" The bathroom light was dim. In five years of a cold, distant marriage, this was the first time we faced each other with such hostility. —Because of the unformed child in my belly. I looked at the unmelted snow on his shoulder, my eyes suddenly reddening, a mocking smile on my lips. I thought he rushed back overnight from New York, thousands of miles away, braving a blizzard. Because he was moved by the new life inside me. I even despicably hoped. That the birth of this little life could ease our stalemate. Unfortunately, I guessed wrong. He imprisoned me here, staring at me with bloodshot eyes, to condemn me. For a moment, I found it ridiculous: "You think I cheated?" "What else?" He sneered, his tone even colder. "Five years of marriage and nothing. I leave, and you're pregnant?" "Pearl, sometimes I really admire you. To be able to diligently act out the role of a woman desperate for a child for five years." "Were you running to the hospital every day really to prepare your body? Or was it to lay the groundwork for this moment, making this pregnancy seem logical?" Every word dripped with malicious speculation. I listened to him in a daze. After a long while, I clenched my white knuckles and suddenly laughed: "Is that what you've always thought of me?" "The baby is eight weeks old. Before you left, we did it once. If it's not yours, whose is it?" "When the baby is big enough, we can do an amniocentesis DNA test. Why label me a cheater now?" Seeing me defend myself, he laughed aloud, his thumb grinding maliciously on my belly: "My child?" "Then please explain, given that I had a vasectomy five years ago, how exactly did you get pregnant with this child!" Smack! A dazzling white vasectomy report was slammed next to my face. My eyes turned red, completely stunned. 2 Ten years ago, the Thorne family went bankrupt. To break up with him, I aborted our child. Later, he rose again, went to great lengths to marry me, saying I owed him a child. Five years into the marriage, to conceive as soon as possible, I visited every hospital. I, who couldn't even drink coffee, drank bowl after bowl of nauseating traditional medicine without blinking. I was afraid of pain, yet I let the needles prick my lower abdomen until it was bruised all over. The pain turned into a morbid desire. That was my hope to cut off the past. Once I have a child, I can leave here without burden. Just as he said. We would owe each other nothing. His company was always busy. I had to calculate my ovulation period while avoiding conflicts with his schedule. The man now was nothing like the boy who craved physical touch back then. He was cold and abstinent, no longer keen on intimacy. And I always worked double hard to arouse his interest. Stockings, uniforms, bunny tails... But his reaction was always cold. And that scrutinizing look. It made me feel ashamed from body to soul. Years of effort yielded no results. Of course, I suspected it was Caleb's problem. That was the third year of marriage. I tentatively asked his assistant and checked all his past medical reports. The next day at the dinner table. He threw two latest reports at me. With many detailed items attached. His was perfect without any abnormality. Mine clearly stated. [Uterine lining is thin, difficult for fertilized egg to implant.] What did he say then? Oh, he looked at me coldly, like looking at a clumsy clown: "Pearl, don't you know best where the problem lies?" Someone who once hid from everyone to undergo such a painful D&C surgery in a private clinic. How could I have the right to blame him now? I still remember my face turning white with embarrassment. But now. He tells me he had a vasectomy long ago. Then what do the ridicule and torture I suffered in these five years trying to conceive count for? 3 My hands were trembling, shaking so much that tears blurred the words in front of me, fingertips white from gripping. I threw the report in his face, asking with a trembling voice: "Caleb Thorne, is it fun to play me?" If silence and tears cannot earn respect. At least anger can. Temporarily. "Watching me drink medicine and take injections, seeking doctors everywhere, being tortured like a madwoman, are you happy?!" "I told you long ago the Thorne family doesn't lack a child, YOU wanted to conceive!" He interrupted sternly. "But you promised!" My tears fell uncontrollably, choking so much I couldn't speak a complete sentence, "You promised, as long as I give you a child, we're even..." He looked at my tears, silent for a long time. I don't know how long passed before the man in front of me finally calmed down. Before my "betrayal," he was the one who set up this scam. He pulled the corner of his mouth with difficulty. "Yes, I did say I would let you go, before you explain clearly." "After all, I'm not interested in wasting my life on a shameless woman." Explain? What does he want me to explain? Why did I disappear for four hours at that banquet? Why lie to him with the excuse of my period? And why did the playboy second son of the Jiang family, whom I dated after our breakup, also happen to leave early? 4 Cold wind mixed with snowflakes hit the glass window. The rustling sound was particularly clear in the quiet night. I said: "Nothing happened between him and me." This was the answer I gave Caleb after thinking for two hours. As soon as this pale defense came out, a substantial piece of evidence was thrown in front of me. —A surveillance video of me stumbling out of a hotel room in the middle of the night. "Now, what else do you have to say?" After a long while, I pinched my white fingertips, my tone calm and numb: "Yes, he sought me out, wanted me to ask you to help his family. I refused." "And then?" "He pestered me for a few hours, suddenly asked if I really wanted a child, said he could help me." "Then what did you do?" The mockery in his eyes grew. "I escaped." I looked up, meeting his scrutinizing gaze. His gaze was sharp as a knife, determined to find any trace of lying on my face. But the mist covered my almond eyes. Except for the redness around the eyes, he could see nothing else. Just like he couldn't distinguish if my words were sincere back then. I touched my lower abdomen, speaking hoarsely: "Your vasectomy is your business, but I haven't been with other men. This can only be your child. If you are willing to believe, I can keep it." "No need." He didn't hesitate for a second. "Pearl, the one aborted ten years ago deserved to be called my child." "But this one now, will never be acknowledged by the Thorne family." The dusty past was suddenly brought up. He saw the blood drain from my face as he wished, his eyes full of undisguised pleasure: "I've already scheduled an abortion for you, tomorrow." "Some chances only come once in a lifetime. Don't you think? Pearl." The heating in the room was strong. But I still felt a bone-chilling cold spreading from my chest to my limbs. It turns out he scheduled the abortion on the plane back. The interrogation was just to confirm his guess. Like a cat playing with a mouse. He just wanted to see me panicked and speechless to vent the hatred in his heart. Not really caring about the truth. After a long while, I released my hand from my abdomen weakly and suddenly laughed: "Yes." Some chances only come once in a lifetime. So the second chance God gave us. I don't want it anymore.
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