Halfway through sex, my wife Cindy suddenly pulled away and grabbed a condom, telling me to put it on. I was stunned. In our three years of marriage, we'd never used protection—we were trying for a baby. She kissed my forehead, her voice gentle. "You've been working overtime every day lately. You're exhausted. If I got pregnant now, you wouldn't have time to take care of me. Let's wait a bit longer." I was so moved my eyes turned red. After I finished showering and came out, I heard her on the balcony talking to her assistant on the phone. "Schedule the baby's One-Month Celebration at the SKY Hotel. Security must be tight." The assistant sounded worried. "What if your husband finds out..." "He won't find out." Cindy's voice was cold. "Now that I have a son with Antoine, I don't need him anymore. Pick out a few top-spec Richard Milles to give him. Consider it compensation." Cold wind poured in from the balcony, freezing me to the bone. Actually, not having kids isn't so bad after all.
Cindy hung up the phone and slid open the glass balcony door. Seeing me standing in the bedroom, panic flashed in her eyes. But quickly, she collected herself and leaned into my arms, resting her chin on my shoulder. "Why aren't you waiting for me in bed? Was the water cold?" I lowered my eyes and calmly withdrew from her embrace. "I was just thirsty, came out for some water." Cindy's hand hung in the air, her fingers curling slightly. She poured me a glass of warm water and casually placed a gift box on the nightstand. Her fingertips brushed aside my damp bangs, tucking them to the side. "Terry, I'm sorry for what you've been going through lately." "Price just got back from Europe, and I had her bring you a Richard Mille. You've been wanting one for ages, haven't you?" I glanced down at the exquisite ribbon on the box but didn't reach for it. "Thanks, but I don't feel like looking at watches right now." I rolled over into bed, turning my back to her. Cindy's hand hung suspended in mid-air, her brow furrowing. But she didn't press further, assuming I was just upset about her sudden insistence on using a condom. "I have an important business dinner tomorrow night, so I won't be having dinner with you." She tucked the covers around me and walked into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the room. A month ago, she came home late from a business function. Her trench coat had a faint milky scent on it. I'd casually asked about it. She'd said matter-of-factly that a business partner had brought family, and she'd picked up the smell from their child. Now, looking back, it wasn't a business partner's child at all. It was clearly her own newborn son she'd been holding. At one in the morning, Cindy was sleeping soundly beside me. Listening to her even breathing, I opened my eyes in the darkness. In three years of marriage, I'd suffered so much to accommodate her and try for a baby. I drank so many body-conditioning medicines I threw up. Blood draws for tests left my arms covered in bruises and hard lumps. Every time she used work as an excuse to postpone our plans, it felt like she was slowly destroying my dignity. Her phone, charging on the nightstand, lit up. I turned my head. It was a WhatsApp message from an unsaved number. [Cindy, the baby was fussy tonight, crying for mommy. After you try the dishes for the One-Month Celebration tomorrow, can you come see us early?] I quietly watched the screen go dark. I opened my laptop and logged into my personal email account, which I hadn't checked in ages. An email from Bulgari headquarters in Italy sat quietly in my inbox. Three months ago, they'd sent me an offer for the position of Global Chief Creative Director. I'd declined it then, wanting to focus on trying for a baby and taking care of the family. Now I opened the reply window, my fingers moving across the keyboard. [I accept the offer.]
The next morning, I drove to Cindy Group. The receptionist saw me and looked flustered, quickly bowing respectfully. "Good morning, Mr. Terry." I nodded slightly and took the private elevator straight to the executive floor. As soon as I stepped out, I saw a man in a tailored designer suit exiting Cindy's office. He was tall and slender, radiating smug satisfaction. Antoine was the personal assistant Cindy had hired six months ago. On his wrist was an extremely rare Patek Philippe full-diamond celestial watch. That was the unique piece Cindy had bought for twelve million at Christie's spring auction last month. The media had widely reported it as a third anniversary gift from Ms. Cindy to her husband. I'd thought she would personally put it on my wrist at next week's anniversary. I never expected it to already be on someone else's arm. Antoine saw me and instinctively touched his watch, a challenge flashing in his eyes. "Mr. Terry, Ms. Cindy was just taking care of the child..." "I mean, she was just reviewing documents and got tired, so she took a nap. Should I announce you?" The smugness in his tone was practically overflowing. I ignored him and pushed open the office door directly. Cindy was sitting in her executive chair. Seeing me enter, she quickly shoved a jewelry box on her desk into a drawer. "Terry? Why aren't you resting at home? What brings you to the office?" I sat on the sofa across from her, my tone calm. "I came to get my old design drafts." Cindy paused, then looked relieved. "Why do you suddenly want to look at those?" "I want to find something to do, pass the time." She didn't suspect anything and walked to the safe to enter the password. "Next week is our anniversary. I've reserved a yacht and invited all your friends. Let's celebrate properly." I took the portfolio of drafts she handed me, watching her fake affection. "Sounds good." I opened the door and walked out, but instead of leaving immediately, I deliberately softened my footsteps and stood outside the door. A few seconds later, Antoine pushed the door open and went in. His voice carried through. "Cindy, Mr. Terry was staring at my wrist just now. Did he recognize the watch?" Cindy's cold voice came through the door crack. "So what if he recognized it?" "He has health issues and can't have children. The Cindy family business needs an heir." "You gave me a son. This ring is what you deserve." "In a couple of years, I'll find an excuse to divorce him and give you and the child proper status." I closed my eyes, gripping the edge of the portfolio until it warped, took a deep breath, and walked toward the elevator without looking back. Back home, I started packing my clothes. Opening the study drawer to find my passport, I accidentally came across a birth certificate. The mother's name was printed in black and white: Cindy. And the newborn's date of birth was exactly one month ago. A bitter ache rose in my chest. I instinctively wanted to tear up the certificate. Just as I was about to apply force, I lost the will. I put everything back exactly where it was and packed my passport in my bag. That evening, Cindy came home and, for once, personally made soup. "Drink more. You haven't been looking well lately. You need to build yourself up." If it were before, I would have been moved enough to drink two large bowls. But today, I just stared coldly at the soup. Just as I was about to speak, her phone vibrated. Glancing at the screen, her expression changed, and she grabbed her phone and quickly walked to the balcony. "The baby has a fever? Don't cry, I'll contact a pediatric specialist right away." The sliding door wasn't completely closed, and her anxious voice came through clearly. I stood up and took the soup she'd personally made, pouring it all down the drain.
That night, Cindy came home very late, carrying the smell of hospital disinfectant. She lay down beside me and habitually reached to put her arm around my waist. When she touched me, nausea rose in my stomach. I jerked away toward the edge of the bed, avoiding her touch. Her hand froze, confusion all over her face. "Terry, what's wrong?" I turned my back to her, my voice cold. "My stomach's not feeling well. I want to sleep alone." She was silent for a moment and didn't push it. The next day, Cindy Group held a planning meeting for the annual jewelry show. As Chief Designer of Cindy Group and nominal Art Consultant for this show, I attended the meeting. Cindy sat at the head of the table, Antoine at her side behind her. The discussion turned to selecting the lead for the second half of the year's main "Rebirth" collection. This was my passion project—two years of conceptual work. I'd drawn every sketch by hand. Cindy suddenly cleared her throat. "Regarding the Rebirth collection, I've decided to put Antoine in full charge." "The final lead designer credit will also go to Antoine." The conference room went silent enough to hear a pin drop. Everyone's eyes turned to me in unison. I looked straight into Cindy's eyes. "Why should my design go to an assistant who knows nothing?" Cindy's expression darkened, tinged with displeasure. "Terry, your health isn't good, and the show workload is too intense. I don't want you overworking yourself." "Antoine may be young, but he's very talented. This project is perfect for him to gain experience." Antoine stood up, his eyes reddening, looking pitiful. "Sir, if you mind, I can decline." "I just want to help Ms. Cindy. I never meant to steal your work." Several executives exchanged glances, their looks at me now tinged with reproach. I laughed bitterly. "Fine. If Ms. Cindy thinks he can do it, give it to him. I have no objections." I stood up and walked out, pushing the door open. While washing my hands in the break room, Antoine followed me in. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me mockingly. "Terry, so what if you're occupying Cindy's husband position?" "A man who can't even give her a child of your own is useless." "With one word from me, everything you worked so hard on has to be handed over to me." I pulled out a paper towel and methodically dried my hands. "Is that so?" "But even wearing a twelve-million-dollar watch can't cover up the cheap smell of a homewrecker on you." Antoine's face twisted with rage. "Who are you calling a homewrecker?!" I raised an eyebrow, my tone disdainful. "What? Hit a nerve?" "Terry, have you made enough of a scene?" Cindy's angry voice came from the doorway. She pulled Antoine behind her, looking at me with disappointment. "Antoine just took on the project and is under a lot of pressure. As his senior, instead of helping him, why are you insulting him here?" "Where did your manners go?" I watched her protect another man behind her back. The last trace of reluctance in my heart evaporated. "Think whatever you want." I pushed past her and walked out. Cindy instinctively reached out, trying to hold me back. "Terry..." Before she could touch me. Antoine grabbed her sleeve, calling out weakly: "Cindy, I'm feeling dizzy." Cindy's movement stopped, leaving her in place. I scoffed and strode out of Cindy Group's building without looking back.
That evening, Cindy came home. She pushed open the bedroom door to see me packing clothes into my suitcase. Her hand paused on her collar. "Where are you going?" "Abroad. To clear my head." I didn't stop what I was doing, stuffing my toiletry bag into the suitcase. She walked to the bed and pulled out a black card, her tone softening. "Milan or Paris? Buy whatever you like." "Once the show details are finalized in a few days, I'll come get you for our anniversary." I zipped up the suitcase, stood up, and looked at her coldly. "Cindy, what if I leave this time and don't come back?" Her brow furrowed, irritation flashing in her eyes. "Terry, are you really going to fight with me this long over design credits?" "I manage such a huge company every day and still have to deal with your moods. Can't you be a little understanding?" I stared at her for several seconds, then suddenly smiled. "Fine. I'll be understanding." The day I left for the airport, South City was hit by a torrential rainstorm. Cindy offered to take me to the airport. I didn't refuse. On the way, her phone vibrated. She answered, and Antoine's anxious crying came through the receiver. "Cindy, the baby suddenly has a high fever. I'm so scared..." Cindy slammed on the brakes, jerked the steering wheel, and pulled directly into the emergency lane. She turned to me, her eyes urgent. "Terry, there's an urgent matter at the company I need to handle immediately." "There's a subway station just ahead. Can you take a taxi to the airport yourself?" I looked at the pouring rain outside. I didn't get angry or question her. I just calmly nodded. "Okay." Cindy nodded lightly. "Let me know when you arrive." I didn't respond. I opened the door, grabbed my umbrella, and pulled my suitcase from the trunk. Cindy didn't even wait for me to get my footing before hitting the gas. The car shot into the rain like an arrow. Muddy water splashed onto the hem of my coat. I pulled my suitcase and turned toward the subway station. More than ten hours later, the plane landed smoothly at Milan Airport. As I walked out of the VIP passage, several Bulgari executives were already waiting. The lead Executive President stepped forward and shook my hand warmly. "Mr. Terry, welcome to Milan. Your office and team are fully ready."
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