Felix Edwards was on an overseas business trip when he found himself caught in a terrorist attack. The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. His parents, Ashley and Ryan Edwards, called from the embassy, anxiously waiting for me to negotiate Felix’s safety. To my surprise, my dad, Vincent Miller, who hadn’t bothered to call me in ten years, also reached out. He claimed he had connections at the embassy and could arrange to have Felix brought back home. Even my close friends, Felix’s buddies, colleagues, and neighbors were all reaching out and wanted to know what was going on. And here I was, lying in bed with a newborn, calmly hanging up one call after another. After all, when Felix saw on the news that his ex-girlfriend, a war correspondent, was caught in a terrorist situation, he didn’t hesitate to leave his family behind and fly there to check on her safety. At that time, with my water already broken, I turned to Felix and said, “Are you really going to ditch your family and fly to that war-ravaged country? If you do, Felix, I won’t clean up your mess.” Felix kept his mouth shut, but the urgent slamming of the door as he stormed off said it all. Well, if he was set on being a hothead and digging his own grave, why should I bail him out?
Felix always loved watching international news channels, and I used to find it puzzling. However, just the other day, a particular story caught my attention. A female war correspondent from our country had been kidnapped by terrorists while reporting in the field. In an instant, I recognized her, Megan Fox, the well-known anchor on that international channel. As I sat on the couch, my pregnant belly round and full, enjoying a slice of cantaloupe and feeling sorry for the journalist, Felix suddenly panicked, knocking over the fruit bowl. When he stood up, his knee collided hard with the corner of the coffee table. The thud was so loud that my belly tightened instinctively, but Felix seemed oblivious to the pain. He stiffly made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water but accidentally pressed the hot water button, scalding himself and smashing the cup in response. He rushed to rinse his mouth with cold water to cool down, then bolted back to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. An hour later, Felix abruptly emerged from his room. “I… I have to go on a business trip,” he stammered. I tightened my grip on the cantaloupe but remained calm as I stood up. “Felix, my due date is in a couple of days. It’s really not a good time for you to be traveling. What if I go into labor? “You know my mom passed away giving birth to my brother. I’m really scared of the whole process. “You’ve been so excited about our daughter’s arrival. Don’t you want her to see her dad as the first thing when she opens her eyes?” Felix’s expression faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. “This business trip is really important to me. I have to go, but don’t worry, I’ll be back before you give birth.” I offered him a smile, even as the contractions in my belly intensified, liquid beginning to trickle down my legs. “I’ll hold you to that, but listen, Felix. You have to take responsibility for whatever happens while you’re gone. I won’t be cleaning up your mess.” Maybe it was the seriousness in my tone, but Felix visibly trembled. “I promise I’ll be safe and return,” he vowed, as if sealing a pact. With that, he rushed back to his room, hurriedly grabbing a couple of items before putting on his shoes and heading for the door. As he was about to leave, I couldn’t help but call after him, my heart softening. “Wait, Felix.” He turned slightly, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Didn’t you just say I could go? Why are you stopping me now?” I clenched my fists, the pain in my belly growing sharper, but I managed to stay composed. “You forgot your passport.” I dragged myself to the bedroom, clutching my leaking water, and retrieved his passport, handing it over along with a bank card—the one that contained the salary he’d sent me throughout our seven years of marriage. Felix’s hand trembled as he took the passport and bank card, his eyes glistening with emotion. For a fleeting second, I thought he might stay. But he stuffed the passport and card into his bag and solemnly vowed again, “I will make it back before you give birth.” With that, he slammed the door behind him and hurried out. Listening to the sound of the door echoing in the empty house, I simply picked up my phone and dialed 119, contacting the maternity center. I mused, “How could a man too oblivious to even notice my water breaking think he could make such promises? It’s utterly ridiculous.”
I met Felix through a hiking club. At that time, the pressure from work was overwhelming; all I wanted was to pile up cash, slaving away at my job and relying on weekends spent hiking to recharge my energy. Felix joined the club in my second year. Initially, he was just another member, but as we consistently found ourselves reaching the summit first time after time, we started to grow closer. He was in finance, and I was in tech. He loved sports and the outdoors, and so did I. So, when we reached our hundredth peak together, he confessed his feelings. There was nothing romantic or original about it—just a simple, “Vivian, let’s date.” And to my surprise, I said yes. After all, my dad had his own flair for creativity; his courtship of my mother once caused half the city to light up with fireworks, and he even ended up in jail for it. But that didn’t stop him from wanting a son, which caused my mother to suffer through years of medicine, ultimately leading to her tragic death in childbirth. To me, romance wasn’t important; stability was. And Felix embodied that. He never showed up late for dates. His gifts were never flashy but always thoughtful. If it rained, he wouldn’t come by uninvited, but the moment I called, he’d be there without hesitation. So, three years into our relationship, we tied the knot. Life after the wedding felt almost identical to before. I cooked, and he washed the dishes. I handled the grocery shopping, while he came home early to prepare the staple food. Our calm and gentle days led me to believe that Felix was indeed the one for me. But everything changed three years ago at the wedding of one of Felix’s college friends. During the bachelor party, one of Felix’s buddies got drunk and broke down, holding Felix’s hand and crying. “Felix, seeing you like this—so lifeless—it really hurts. I’m stepping into a happy marriage, but looking at you like this? It’s tough. If Megan hadn’t gone abroad to be a war correspondent, you might not be so closed off and heartbroken.” At that, Felix instinctively glanced in my direction. “Don’t listen to him; he’s drunk.” I laughed, brushing it off. But once we got home, I pointedly said, “Felix, I have my flaws, but my one strength is the ability to cut ties quickly, especially when it comes to love.” He stood there in the shadows that night, his expression hidden in the darkness. After that, Megan vanished completely from our lives—until now.
I hadn’t answered the phone because I had just finished nursing my daughter at the maternity center when Felix’s mother, Ashley, burst into the room. “Vivian, why haven’t you been answering my calls? Ryan is losing his mind at the embassy! “You need to come home right now with Felix’s documents to go to the embassy.” Listening to Ashley, I calmly replied with six digits, “666313.” She paused, taken aback. Taking a moment to adjust my daughter’s blanket, I explained, “I’m not in a good position to go right now. That’s the code for our home; you can grab whatever you need there.” Ashley’s hand trembled slightly. “Vivian, how can you be so heartless? Felix is in a war zone, and we don’t even know if he’s alive! “Did you not see the distress message Felix sent to everyone? He said he got shot in the leg and is hiding in a stranger’s house. “I know you’re in the postpartum period, but this is an emergency. Can’t you just come to the embassy with me for a sec to check things out?” she insisted, her body shaking with urgency. I replied calmly, “I understand Felix’s situation. Before he sent that group message, he texted me several times for help, but I chose to ignore him.” Ashley stumbled backward, clearly shocked. Seeing her expression tugged at my heart. After seven years of marriage, she had always been good to me, filling the void left by my late mother. But now, everything felt shattered because of Felix. I calmly handed her the recording of my conversation with Felix from that night. “Ashley, don’t think of me as cruel. This is all Felix’s doing.” Trembling, Ashley accepted the recording, and once she finished watching, she crumpled to the ground. She struggled to find her voice. “Vivian, listen to me, Felix and Megan… they really don’t have anything going on.” I still felt a pang of sympathy. Even though my C-section recovery was painful, I got up and helped Ashley to her feet—much like how I had seen Felix leave home when my water broke, softly handing him his passport and bank card. “I know there’s nothing physical between Felix and Megan, but the fact that he’s willing to abandon his family to go find her shows he doesn’t value our little family. He’s okay with my daughter losing her father and me becoming a widow just to chase after her, so he needs to accept the consequences of that decision.” Ashley turned pale at my cold tone, and she fumbled with her words, struggling to find the right thing to say. Perhaps she couldn’t even bring herself to convince me. Ultimately, Ashley gave up, shivering as she stood. “Take care. I’ll leave you to your recovery.” With that, she seemed to age a decade as she rushed out the door. I felt a pang of guilt, but just as she was about to leave, I called after her, “Ashley, can you and Ryan find some time this week to move out of my apartment?” Ashley hesitated, turning back. “Can’t you just wait a little longer?” I shook my head. “Didn’t Felix leave without waiting to make sure I got to the hospital after my water broke? “I just want to sort out all our shared assets before he comes back.”
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