My best friend had been secretly married for three years, yet she bragged about her "amazing husband" to me every single day. She always said her husband was incredibly attentive. He would cook for her in the middle of the night, keep track of her period, and cancel important meetings just to be with her whenever she felt down. I used to tell her how lucky she was. Meanwhile, my own husband, Ethan, was always too busy for me. Until the day I had a miscarriage. I couldn't reach Ethan. I couldn't reach my parents either. In the end, the person who showed up at the hospital to sign my emergency admission papers was my best friend, Serena. She rushed into the ward, signing her name on the guarantor line. As I stared at the signature on the carbon copy, my heart sank. I knew that handwriting all too well. It was identical to my husband's. I tried to tell myself it was just a coincidence. But after I was discharged, I went to Serena's apartment to pick up a bag I had left behind. While looking for it, I found a pregnancy photoshoot tucked away in a drawer. In the photo, my parents were sitting right next to her. And Ethan's hand was resting gently on her swollen belly. On the back of the photo, a line was written in that same handwriting: *Finally, a complete family.* It turned out that all these years, Serena wasn't bragging about her own happiness. She was bragging about the love my husband was giving her. My most trusted best friend, my beloved husband, and even the parents who gave birth to me—they had all aligned against me long ago. At that moment, I finally realized something. I hadn't just lost a baby. I had lost the entire life I spent eight years building with my own hands. ...
I went home clutching the photo. The entire drive back, every single word Serena had ever said to me kept flashing through my mind. She once told me that when she had bad cramps, her husband would get up in the middle of the night to brew her hot ginger tea. On that exact night, I was curling up in pain in my own bed, calling Ethan. He told me he was at a business dinner and couldn't make it home. She said when she had a high fever, her husband stayed up all night watching over her until his eyes were bloodshot. On that exact day, my stomach pain was so bad I couldn't even stand. I texted Ethan, and he only replied: *Make sure to take some pills.* She said when she was in a bad mood, her husband canceled his meetings to take her to the beach. That day was my birthday. Ethan had promised to take me out for dinner, but at the last minute, he texted saying something came up at the office and told me to eat the cake by myself. Then Serena called me, her voice dripping with sweet vanity. "Chloe, my husband just took me out for dinner. Now he’s insisting on taking me to the beach for the night breeze. It’s so annoying." Back then, I actually laughed and said: "Well, that’s a happy problem." Looking back, every single word felt like a brutal slap to my face. Ethan wasn't too busy. He just gave all his time to her. I was sitting on the couch, my hand trembling as I held the photo, when my phone suddenly rang. The caller ID showed: *Ethan*. I stared at the screen for a few seconds before swiping to answer. "Chloe?" His voice was as gentle as always, filled with that comforting tone he always used. "Why didn't you call me when you woke up? I just got out of a meeting and saw the notification from the hospital." I said nothing. He paused, his tone softening even more. "I'm so sorry, babe. My phone was on silent during the presentation, so I missed your calls. I contacted your parents too. They said they were on their way to visit an old friend and didn't check their phones." "How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?" "Does your stomach still hurt?" "I had the housekeeper make some soup for you. I’ll be home to keep you company later, okay?" He asked so many detailed questions, sounding like the most caring husband in the world. If I didn't have this photo in my hand, I would have believed him. I asked quietly, "Ethan, were you really that busy today?" There was a brief silence on the other end. Then, he let out a soft laugh. "Of course I was. Why are you asking all of a sudden?" "Are you just feeling down because of the miscarriage? Don't overthink things, Chloe." "Be a good girl and don't overanalyze. I'll be home soon." I closed my eyes. "Okay." He sounded relieved. "Good girl. Wait for me." After the call ended, the living room fell into a suffocating silence. I slowly put my phone down as more details flooded my brain. I remembered finding a faint trace of baby powder scent on Ethan's shirt. I remembered seeing a tiny toy car in the backseat of his car. I remembered how he would occasionally step out to the balcony to answer calls, keeping his voice incredibly low. Whenever I asked, he would always say it was just a client. And I believed him. Because I never had a reason to doubt him. And I certainly never expected Serena to be the one to stab me in the back.
I put the pregnancy photo in my bag and drove to my parents' house. My mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner. When she saw me walk in, she froze for a second, then quickly walked over. "Chloe! Why are you running around right after being discharged? Do you not care about your health?" I looked at her, suddenly wanting to laugh. Yesterday, when I was lying outside the operating room waiting for someone to sign my papers, her phone was dead. Now she suddenly cared about my health. I didn't answer her. I just threw the photo onto the dining table. "Mom, explain this." Her face went completely pale. My dad, who was reading the tablet on the couch, looked up. The moment his eyes hit the photo, his eyebrows knitted tightly. The living room went dead silent. My mom reached out to grab the photo, trying to hide it. "Where did you find this?" "That doesn't matter," I stared at her. "I asked you, what is this?" Her lips trembled, but she couldn't find her words. My dad spoke up with a cold, stern face. "You just had a miscarriage. Your emotions are unstable. Don't start imagining things over an old photo." An old photo. So it was true. I looked at him, my voice tight. "When was this taken?" No one answered. I asked again, louder, "When was this taken?!" This time, my mom whispered, "Three years ago." My fingers shook, my nails digging deep into my palms. Three years ago. Which meant that back when I knew absolutely nothing, they were already standing together, taking a happy family portrait. My throat felt tight. "You guys knew all along?" My mom avoided my gaze. But my dad didn't even bother to deny it anymore. "Yes, we knew." "Serena was pregnant back then, and it wasn't easy for her to handle it alone. Ethan was worried, and we couldn't just turn our backs on her." It felt like a physical blow to my face. My ears were ringing. "So you went to her prenatal checkups, took family photos with her, and played happy family?" My mom lost her patience. "Chloe, don't make it sound so ugly. You know what kind of person Serena is. She has always been sweet and helpful. She has taken care of us more than you have these past few years!" "She is your best friend. What's wrong with us looking out for her a little?" I let out a bitter laugh. "My best friend?" "She sounds more like your real daughter." My mom’s face darkened. "Watch your attitude, Chloe!" I looked at them, my chest aching. "Then what about me? Who am I to you guys?" At that, my mom’s eyes flickered with a hint of guilt. But her next words completely froze my heart. "Chloe, we did this for your own good." "You and Ethan have been married for years. You got pregnant once before, but you couldn't keep it. The doctor said back then that it would be extremely difficult for you to conceive again." I froze. That first miscarriage was my deepest wound. In our fifth year of marriage, I had gotten pregnant. I was so happy I couldn't sleep all night. Ethan had held me close, promising he would take care of us forever. But at three months, the heartbeat stopped. "Ethan needs an heir," my mom whispered. "A man like him can't go without a child forever." "Since Serena gave birth to a boy, and he's Ethan's blood, we couldn't just pretend he doesn't exist." I stared at her, my vision blurring. "So in your eyes, my miscarriage was just my own failure, but her giving birth is a triumph?" "That's not what I meant," my mom frowned. "Why are you being so dramatic?" My dad put his tablet down, his voice cold and commanding. "Enough. You weren't supposed to find out about this anyway. Ethan was right—you've been emotionally unstable lately." "Ethan is a great provider. Men make mistakes, but as long as he keeps coming home to you, you should learn to keep one eye shut." I looked at him, my heart turning to ice. "Coming home? To which home?" Silence filled the room. My mom softened her tone after a moment. "Chloe, you are his legal wife. No one can take that away from you." "No matter what Serena did, she only gave him a child." "If you're smart, you'll drop this. Don't make a scene and make everyone look bad." I stood there, looking at the two people who had raised me, feeling like they were complete strangers. Serena was my best friend, but she was also their adopted darling. All these years, she had the keys to my house, went shopping with my mom, took my dad to his doctor appointments, and spent every holiday with us. I thought it was because she loved me. Now I realized she was slowly pushing me out of my own life, inch by inch, until my own parents didn't even have a place for me anymore. I bent down, snatched the photo back, and shoved it into my bag. My mom instinctively reached out. "Where are you going?" I looked up at her. "To find Ethan." My mom's face changed, and she quickly grabbed my arm. "Don't do this, Chloe. Serena is still recovering with the baby—" I shook her hand off violently. "She has a baby, so I deserve to lose mine? Is that it?" My mom froze. I didn't look back as I walked out the door. My dad’s booming voice echoed from behind me. "Chloe Bennett! If you ruin this marriage today, you are the only one who will regret it!" I didn't stop. When I stepped outside, the afternoon sun was blindingly bright. But I felt absolutely no warmth. The place I thought would always protect me had never belonged to me in the first place.
Serena’s current apartment was located in a luxury high-rise, not far from Ethan’s company. I had been there once before. She told me it belonged to a friend and she was just staying there temporarily. What a joke. It wasn't a temporary stay. It was a love nest he bought for her. The front door wasn't fully closed, and I could hear a child’s laughter coming from inside. I stood at the door, peering through the crack. Ethan was sitting on the plush carpet, holding building blocks, helping a little boy build a castle. Serena was sitting on the couch, peeling an apple. The warm sunlight streamed in, bathing them in a picture-perfect glow. They looked like a real family. The little boy suddenly looked up and spotted me standing at the door. He blinked, then grabbed his toys and ran to Ethan on his chubby little legs. "Daddy!" he called out in a sweet, childish voice. Ethan looked up. The moment his eyes met mine, the smile on his face completely froze. I stood there, my feet feeling like they were glued to the floor. *Daddy.* The word felt like a physical blade plunged straight into my chest. Ethan had promised me. After my last miscarriage, when the doctor said my uterus was severely damaged and another pregnancy would be highly risky, I had sobbed in his arms. He had held me, kissing my forehead over and over, saying: "It's okay, Chloe. We don't need kids. I only need you." But now, he was kneeling in front of another woman's child, listening to him call him Daddy. Every single word he had ever said to me was a lie. When I pushed the door open, everyone in the room stood up. Serena's face drained of color, and she almost dropped the paring knife. "Chloe... what are you doing here?" I didn't even look at her. My eyes were locked on Ethan. "Aren't you going to explain this?" Ethan remained silent for a few seconds. He walked toward me, keeping his voice low. "Let's talk outside." I took a step back, avoiding his reach. "We talk here." The little boy was frightened by the cold atmosphere. He grabbed Ethan's trousers, looking at me with wide, scared eyes. "Daddy, who is she?" No one answered him. I walked further into the room, staring at the boy's face. His eyes and brow looked exactly like Ethan’s. My chest tightened painfully. Before I could say anything, the boy suddenly took a step back in fear. He stepped too fast, tripped over a loose toy block, and fell backward onto the carpet. "Waaah—!" The boy immediately burst into tears. Serena gasped and rushed over, pulling him into her arms. "Leo! Are you okay? Where does it hurt?" The boy sobbed hysterically, burying his face in Serena's neck while pointing a trembling finger at me. "She pushed me... the mean lady pushed me..." I froze. "I didn't touch him." My voice was quiet, but it rang clearly in the room. But no one was listening to me. Serena hugged the boy tight, her eyes red as if her heart was breaking. "Chloe, if you have a problem, take it out on me! Leo is just a child!" The boy cried louder, reaching his arms out to Ethan. "Daddy, it hurts..." Ethan’s expression instantly darkened. He took the boy from Serena's arms, checking his knees. There was a tiny red scrape on his knee. Ethan’s frown deepened. When he looked up at me, his eyes were filled with suppressed anger. "Chloe, control yourself." I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. "I didn't do anything." Ethan pressed his lips together, his voice deep and cold. "A child wouldn't lie about something like this." Those words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. My throat burned. "So you believe him over me?" He didn't answer. He just held the boy and instinctively stepped closer to Serena, shielding her. That tiny movement hurt more than any words ever could. It was instinct. His instinct was to protect them and guard against me. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. I was his wife. "Ethan," I said, my voice trembling but clear. "The day I had my miscarriage, I called you dozens of times. Where were you?" His face went pale. "Chloe, let's talk about this when we get home." "Home?" I whispered. "Which home?" The boy was still whimpering, his small hands clutching Ethan’s shirt. "Daddy, I'm scared..." Ethan patted his back, his voice incredibly gentle. "It's okay. Daddy's here." Serena looked at me with tearful eyes, looking like the ultimate victim. "Chloe, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. Blame me, but please don't take it out on Leo. He doesn't know anything." I looked at her, feeling utterly disgusted. "He doesn't know anything, but you do." Her lips trembled. "I didn't mean to..." Ethan looked at me, his eyes filled with exhaustion and impatience. "Chloe, Leo is already hurt. Stop making a scene." *Making a scene.* Again, those words. The first time I lost a baby, he said I was being too emotional. Now, when I caught him red-handed with his secret family, he still accused me of making a scene. It seemed that as long as I expressed pain, as long as I demanded answers, I was the one in the wrong. I looked down at my hands. They were empty. I had no baby, and I had no home. I turned around and walked out. Ethan put the boy down and chased after me, grabbing my wrist. "I'll drive you back." I slowly but firmly pried his fingers off my arm. "Don't touch me." His hand went stiff. I didn't give him another look. I walked straight out of the apartment. Behind me, the boy's loud cries and Serena's soothing voice echoed down the hallway. As the elevator doors slowly shut, tears finally spilled over. The most painful part wasn't the betrayal itself. It was realizing that even though you still loved him, he wouldn't hesitate for a single second to choose them over you.
By the time I got back to our apartment, the sky was pitch black. Ethan returned thirty minutes later. He walked in with his suit jacket draped over his arm, his face etched with exhaustion. He looked like a man who had just finished consoling his mistress and child, only to drag himself back to deal with his wife. He stood by the door, staring at me for a few seconds before saying, "Chloe, we need to talk." He walked over and sat across from me. After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Leo is indeed my son." Even though I already knew, hearing it from his mouth felt like another heavy blow. My fingertips were icy. "Since when?" Ethan closed his eyes. "After your first miscarriage." My breathing caught. "You couldn't sleep back then, and your mental state was terrible. The doctor said you needed complete rest. Meanwhile, my company was going through a crisis, and I was running myself ragged. Serena was helping out by taking care of your parents, and she’d occasionally bring food to our place." "One night, I got completely wasted. She drove me back. And then..." He spoke slowly, his voice hoarse. "I wanted to fix things before telling you, but then... she got pregnant." I looked at him and let out a hollow laugh. "So you decided to play the loving husband to me while playing dad to her child?" Ethan frowned, looking pained. "I never wanted things to turn out like this." "I never had any intention of divorcing you, Chloe." How pathetic. He claimed to love me while having a child with another woman. He claimed he didn't want a divorce while turning my entire life into a running joke. I asked quietly, "And what about Serena?" He paused. "She is my responsibility." "Responsibility?" I looked at him. "You went to her appointments, raised her kid, and you were with her the exact day I lost my baby. You call that responsibility?" A flash of guilt crossed Ethan's eyes. "Leo had a sudden high fever that day. I couldn't leave." "You couldn't leave," I repeated, my throat burning. "So you ignored all my calls." "So my baby died alone because you couldn't leave. Is that it?" Ethan’s face turned white. "Chloe, I know I messed up. I'm sorry." "But ever since you lost the baby, you’ve been so unstable. You don't sleep, you overthink everything, and you're always on edge." "I was exhausted too." By the end of his sentence, his voice carried a hint of pent-up resentment. As if he was the victim here. "I was suffocating between the office and trying to manage both of you. I wanted to take care of you, but I also had to handle things on her end. You didn't give me any room to breathe." I looked at him, feeling my love for him completely die. To him, my grief after losing our baby wasn't pain. It was just an annoyance. I stood up, my voice dead calm. "Ethan, let's get a divorce." He snapped his head up. "I told you, I am not divorcing you." "Why?" I looked at him. "Because you love me? Or because you can't bear to lose this perfect setup where you get to keep both of us?" He froze, unable to utter a single word. Just then, his phone buzzed. It was my mother. He picked it up, and my mom’s frantic voice echoed through the speaker. "Ethan, get over here quick! Leo won't stop crying, and Serena is having a panic attack..." Ethan didn't even look at me. He grabbed his car keys and bolted out the door. The moment the door slammed shut, the living room fell silent again. I stood there for a long time. When your heart truly breaks, you don't scream or cry. You just become very, very quiet. I walked into the bedroom, opened the closet, and pulled out my suitcase. I packed my clothes, my documents, and my credit cards. Dragging my suitcase to the front door, I took one last look at the place I had lived in for eight years. Everything looked exactly the same. But I knew I couldn't stay here for another second. I closed the door behind me and stepped into the elevator. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan. *Leo is in bad shape. I might not make it back tonight.* *Chloe, don't overthink. We’ll talk when I get back.* I stared at the message for a long time, then locked my screen. The night wind was freezing. I dragged my suitcase into the dark, never looking back.
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