From the instant we exchanged our wedding vows, my husband, Julian Smith, embarked on a fervent mission to knit me seamlessly into his family, dedicating himself to having sex with me to make me pregnant. But after three years, my belly remained flat. Gradually, his patience began to wear thin. Eventually, he abandoned me in a fire, leaving me with his new lover. Yet, I wasn’t shattered. After being rescued, I did three things. First, I secretly hid my pregnancy test report. Second, I moved out of the home we’d shared for three years. Third, on our wedding anniversary, I filed for divorce. Julian remained indifferent. His new lover came to me to apologize, tears streaming down her face. “Judy, Mr. Smith didn’t mean to hurt you. If you’re angry, blame me.” I didn’t blame her. I simply told her to leave. Julian wrapped his arms around her, murmuring soothing words, but the moment he turned to me, his demeanor shifted. With a voice as cold as ice, he declared and tossed a divorce agreement my way, “Don’t regret it.” With not a single regret in my heart, I departed in silence, hiding the secret of my pregnancy. But later, when he stumbled upon my pregnancy test report, his eyes flared red with fury, and he seemed to lose all sense of reason. ***** In the aftermath of the fire, I lay in the hospital for three long days, but Julian never visited. Upon my discharge from the hospital, I found myself perched alone on the sofa, lost in contemplation over the doctor’s words. The doctor had said, “Ms. White, you’re pregnant, but the pregnancy isn’t stable. You must take care to avoid any intense emotions or excitement.” Remembering my past miscarriages, I silently vowed, “Baby, this time, I will bring you into the world.” Julian returned late that night. He was engaged in a phone conversation, a tender glow softening his gaze. A woman’s voice drifted through the line. It was none other than Linda Green, the rising starlet he had heroically pulled from the fire just recently. Once, this would have driven me mad with jealousy. Now, it left me numb. Only after hanging up did he notice me on the sofa. Surprise flickered across his face, followed by irritation. “Why didn’t you tell me you were discharged?” he yelled. I almost laughed. I’d texted him long before leaving the hospital. He just hadn’t cared enough to notice. When I didn’t respond, he sat beside me. After a brief pause, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black credit card. With a calm directive, he said, “Take this, and keep preparing for the pregnancy.” My hand rested on my belly, where life was already growing. I kept the existence of our child a secret, leaving the card untouched where he had placed it. Instead, I handed him a contract. “Julian, let’s get divorced.” The words on the divorce agreement stunned him. His brow creased into a frown, and his voice was laced with the same impatience as always. “Divorce? Did you not just go through a fire before? And besides, you’re here, safe and sound, aren’t you? Now, you want to divorce me over this?” he snapped. I thought, “Go through a fire? Safe and sound?” My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my emotions in check. Yes, I’d survived the fire. But the fire had always been my shadow. It had killed my mother and nearly claimed me, too. Julian had saved me back then, pulling me from the abyss. So, shouldn’t he, of all people, know how terrified I was of fire? How could he just abandon me in the midst of flames and walk away, hand in hand with another woman? As I held my silence, he continued, “Come on, be sensible. I’ve had my hands full. That’s why I couldn’t make it to the hospital.” With my patience worn thin, I let out a derisive sneer and retort. “If being ‘sensible’ means I should overlook how you left me for dead at the fire and walked out with another woman, only to expect me to act like nothing happened, then yes, I guess I’m not sensible at all.” I took a deep breath and declared, “Julian, let’s get a divorce.” He fell silent, his expression darkening as he sat there for a moment, brooding. Finally, he left the card on the table. “Don’t be rash. Keep trying for a baby.” With that, he walked upstairs without looking back. I knew he was trying to appease me. He’d done this before whenever I’d been jealous of Linda. There was a time when he would at least conjure up surprises for me, but now, all that remained was a credit card devoid of any real sentiment. He thought I’d give in like I always had. But this time, I wouldn’t.
Watching Julian’s back as he walked away, I sneered. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my lower abdomen, yanking me from my thoughts. My hand instinctively flew to my stomach as I rushed to the guest bedroom, taking a folic acid pill. I softly placed my hand on my belly, whispering words of silent solace to the delicate life blossoming within. That night marked the beginning of another cold war between Julian and me. This had become his go-to tactic, coercing me into conceding my supposed faults ever since we tied the knot. Once upon a time, I had bowed my head because I loved him. But now? Now that the love was gone, there was no reason to give in anymore. I packed my things and moved out. That night, he made no effort to find me, which I welcomed as a chance for some freedom. I seized the opportunity to make plans with my best friend, Rachel Gray, for dinner and a movie. As we drove home afterward, Rachel finally broke the silence. “Are you really going through with the divorce? Are you prepared to let go of everything you’ve worked so hard for?” Within the car, my hand tenderly caressed my pregnant belly. The lights beyond the window cast a dim glow, yet a serene calm enveloped me. Her question didn’t stir up any anxiety in me. Maybe I was just too disappointed to feel anything anymore. “I’m planning to take a job at Joyvo Group,” I said softly. Rachel’s eyes widened in surprise. “If you go to Joyvo Group, Julian will lose it,” she exclaimed. I thought about it for a second and chuckled, “Now that you mention it, I think I want to go even more.” After a restorative night, I composed an email to Julian, formally tendering my resignation. He offered no response, so I took his silence as tacit agreement. The very next day, I turned on my heel and aligned myself with his competitor, Joyvo Group. Consequently, on my first day at the new company, Julian sought me out. In front of everyone, he grabbed my arm and pulled me away. He looked livid. I stumbled after him, my free hand instinctively covering my belly to protect the baby inside me. “Julian! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane?” I yanked my arm, trying to break free. “I think you’re the one who’s lost it!” he snapped. “You want to work at Joyvo Group? Did I give you permission to resign?” His face loomed mere inches from mine as he pulled me close. Our gaze met when his eyes burned with anger. “Do you even remember how Joyvo Group tried to destroy us in the beginning?” he demanded. Of course, I remembered. How could I forget the humiliation Julian endured when Joyvo Group had tried to suppress us? It was a wound he had carried for so long, a constant source of pain. But that pain didn’t justify the way he treated me, did it? He never cared about my hurts, so why should I care about his? “Have you said everything you needed to say?” I asked. “Because if you have, then let me go. I have work to do.” I tried to pull away again, but his grip was like iron. His fingers dug into my wrist, and I winced. His eyes were red with rage. “You will not work for Joyvo Group,” he growled. “Name any condition. Anything but this.” Any condition? I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. In his mind, we were still haggling, still negotiating like this was some business deal. When had our relationship become so transactional? When had love turned into a series of demands and conditions? I met his gaze, his eyes brimming with a tempest of anger. His eyes, which I had once loved so deeply, now gazed back at me with an unsettling unfamiliarity. I took a deep breath, letting the calm wash over me again. “Fine,” I said firmly. “My condition is divorce.”
After a brief pause, I lifted my head again, meeting Julian’s red-rimmed eyes head-on. I repeated my words. “As long as you agree to a divorce, I won’t take the job at Joyvo Group.” I could see the anger in his eyes bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to spill over. My wrist felt as though it might snap under his vice-like grip. Just when I braced myself for his inevitable rejection, he laughed. “Fine,” he said, his tone dripping with malice. “Since you want a divorce so badly, I’ll grant your wish. But don’t regret it.” Our journey to the courthouse was swift, yet I had overlooked the mandatory 30-day cooling-off period before the divorce could proceed. The divorce was stalled, and we were now tethered to an agonizing wait of another 30 days. I stood on the steps, waiting for the taxi, feeling a growing sense of impatience. Julian stood beside me, unmoving. He exuded an air of confidence as if victory was already within his grasp. “Judy White,” he began. “I admit that I’ve neglected you lately, but you’ve been too willful. If you come back now, we can work through everything. As for Linda, there’s nothing between us. We’re just cooperating for the company’s marketing. That’s all.” It was the first time he’d ever explained so much to me. Yet, there remained one thing he never clarified—why he abandoned me to the flames that day, choosing instead to rush to Linda’s rescue. I turned to look at him. His expression was calmer now, but his eyes were deep, reflecting my own image back at me like a mirror. He still thought this was just a spat, something that could be smoothed over with a few words. And then, just like before, he started to coax me again. “Let’s prepare for pregnancy. Once we have a child, everything will go back to how it was. My family will accept you once we have a baby.” I had heard him say this before. But this time, something inside me had changed. The expectations I once had were gone, burned away like ash. What did it matter whether his family accepted me or not? I was the daughter of a murderer, after all. Our marriage was over. It had been over for a long time. A flutter of movement in my abdomen, the baby kicking, reminded me of the life growing inside me. Suddenly, I was reminded of the day Julian and I went to get our marriage certificate. Back then, he had been young and full of passion and sincerity. He held our marriage certificate like it was the most precious thing in the world, his face splitting into an ear-to-ear grin. “Honey,” he had said, “We’ll never divorce!” How wrong he had been! At 22, Julian had only me in his heart and eyes. At 30, Julian had more than just me in his eyes and heart. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt cold all over. “Julian,” I confessed, “I really don’t want to go on with you.” With those words, I climbed into the car and l As the car pulled away, my phone buzzed with a message from Julian. His words were filled with rage. Julian: [I’ll give you one last chance. Come back and prepare for the pregnancy!] Rather than respond to his message, I blocked his number, erased it from my contacts, and tossed my phone aside. That evening, after taking my folic acid tablet, I planned to settle into bed. But then I felt a dull ache in my abdomen. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind. “Ms. White, you’re pregnant, but the pregnancy isn’t stable. You must take care to avoid any intense emotions or excitement.” I gently rested my hand on my belly, which was just beginning to show the faintest curve. Whispering to the life growing inside me, I said, “Baby, no matter what, I will protect you. I’ll bring you into this world and make sure you grow up happy and safe…” With that, I drifted into a peaceful sleep. During the cooling-off period before the divorce, all I wanted was to live quietly. I yearned to erase it all from my memory and forget Julian entirely. Then, I planned to find a place where I was a stranger to give birth and raise my child in solitude. No longer would I have to wait in solitude at home each day, uncertain if Julian would return or not. I would no longer have to stew in jealousy over him and those female celebrities he claimed were merely business targets. I would no longer fret over his family rejecting me because I was the daughter of a murderer. But the next day, my phone rang. It was Rachel. Anxiously, she urged me over the phone, “Judy, please, check the trending searches on Twitter.” I opened the app, and my mind went blank instantly. The trending topics were filled with explosive revelations. [Golden Agent Judy White Revealed as the Daughter of a Murderer] [The Nation-Shaking Murder Case from Twelve Years Ago, Judy White’s Mother Found Guilty] The hashtags quickly climbed to the top of the list, dominating the hot search rankings. The comment section was a cesspool of venomous speculation and vile insults. My hands trembled as I held the phone. On the other end of the line, Rachel spoke with a voice laced with urgency, “Judy, you won’t believe this, but Julian’s company just released a statement confirming it’s all true…” Her words faded into the distance, drowned out by the roaring in my ears. In a trance, my mind drifted back to that fateful night, a night soaked in the stark hues of blood and the fierce glow of flames. I was catapulted back to the time when I lost everyone dear to me. Each day and night, I faced the relentless cruelty of my classmates. Their bullying, oppression, and mockery became the dark shroud of my existence. Everywhere I went, they’d point and whisper, “Look, that’s Judy, the murderer’s daughter.” Even when I hid, their voices followed me. “Judy’s father was a rapist, and her mother’s a murderer.” The first time I visited Julian’s house, his mother looked at me with icy disdain and asked, “Are you the Judy who was almost raped by her own father?” These memories crashed over me like waves, sharp and unrelenting. It was as if a knife was slicing through me, cutting me into pieces again and again. I couldn’t tell how many moments slipped by in that haze. Then, the door burst open, and Rachel’s voice pierced through the haze. “Judy! You’re bleeding!”
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