My husband, Mark Vance, and his intern, Tiffany Bloom, were in the middle of a three-day sex challenge. I sent him the news: I was pregnant. The next second, Mark called me on FaceTime. On the screen, he and Tiffany were sitting on a sex swing in some kinky hotel room, handcuffs and whips dangling nearby. “Go get rid of it,” he said, his voice flat. “Tiffany would be so upset otherwise.” I calmly refused him. “No way.” Mark paused, then sneered. “Then divorce it is.” A wave of relief washed over me. “Good. I’ll get the divorce papers ready immediately!” My dream of becoming a single mom, on my own terms, was finally coming true. “Ashley Hayes, be reasonable. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Mark snuffed out his cigarette. I shook my head. “I’m not making anything harder. I love this baby. I’m having it!” At my words, Tiffany, nestled in his arms, burst into louder sobs. Half out of spite, half as a blatant challenge to me, she hooked her arms around Mark’s neck and bit him hard. Mark didn’t spare me a single glance. He just pulled her in for a searing deep kiss. Knowing when I wasn’t wanted, I quietly ended the FaceTime call and called a cab to head home. As soon as I got in the car, Mark’s call came through again. His neck was dotted with fresh bite marks. “She got upset and bit me. Don’t worry, they’ll be gone before I come home.” Only then did I remember. Mark and I had an agreement. No matter how many women he was with, no matter how wild he got, he had to come home spotless. No traces. He had cheated so many times, so often that I’d forgotten when I stopped loving him. I immediately shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re getting divorced anyway.” He stared at me, his lips pressed together, saying nothing. Then, Tiffany started to throw another tantrum. “You’re never going to get rid of the baby! Are you?! I’m never going to be intimate with you again!” Tiffany started punching Mark’s chest. Mark’s expression tightened. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and delivered his final ultimatum to me. “Ashley, I don’t want this baby.” “You don’t want it, but I do!” I quickly hung up. When I got out of the cab, the driver hesitated, then spoke. “Your husband is unbelievable! Aren’t you going to confront that woman?” I simply smiled. “I did! That’s how I lost my first baby.” The driver fell silent, unable to find another word. I’d never been loved by my parents. They showered all their affection on my cousin, barely giving me the time of day. So, I always yearned for someone, a blood relative, to love me unconditionally. I met Mark just a week before I was scheduled to visit a sperm bank. He was handsome, intelligent. Soon, I started wanting to have a child with him. I even fell in love. Later, I married Mark, just as I’d wanted. When I first discovered his infidelity, I, like any wife, was devastated, heartbroken, and hysterical. But he would always apologize, and then, behind my back, he’d continue his affairs. I looked down, gently stroking the life growing inside me. After the divorce, I would raise this child well.
I was drafting the divorce papers when Mark walked in, a bouquet of roses in his hands. Mark always brought me a gift when he came home. Sometimes it was cake, sometimes jewelry. He skillfully replaced the withered roses in the vase, his tone gentle. “Tomorrow, I’ll go with you to the clinic for the abortion.” Such a gentle voice, yet such chilling words. In the past, I would have cried and fought with him. But I didn’t love him anymore. I held up my laptop for him to see. “Here are the divorce papers. If there are no issues, I’ll print them.” Mark, still holding a dried rose, a slight smile playing on his lips, said, “Still throwing a fit, huh?” He sighed, then smoothly ran his hand through my long hair. “Ashley, I’m exhausted. Can we please not do this right now?” Three days and three nights with Tiffany in a kinky hotel, of course he was exhausted. “Mark, I’m serious.” But Mark pushed the laptop back, then ignored me, slumping onto the couch. “Ashley, could you whip up that protein shake for me? The one with all the boosters.” I ignored him. We were getting divorced; he still expected me to be his caretaker?! “If you’re okay with it, I’m heading to the print shop.” Mark suddenly jolted up from the couch. “You’re really going to divorce me?” I nodded without hesitation. He sat up on the couch, waving me over with a dismissive gesture, like I was his pet. “Bring it over. Let me see.” I handed it to him. He scanned it quickly. “Go print it.” Without a moment’s hesitation, I transferred the document to my phone, grabbed my jacket, and headed downstairs. As I closed the door, Mark leaned back on the couch, smiling at me, but the smile never reached his eyes. When I returned from the print shop, I found Mark and Tiffany roughhousing in the kitchen. “Careful! You’re hurting me!” Tiffany pouted, reaching out to pinch Mark’s face. He leaned down, cupped her waist, and kissed her. What a picture of pure domestic bliss, like something from a bad rom-com. Unfortunately, my opening the door broke the spell. Mark’s hand, which had been on Tiffany’s waist, dropped instantly. His eyes, however, remained tender. “You’re back.” Tiffany acted as if she hadn’t seen me, clutching his shirt and murmuring about not having enough kisses. Mark glanced at me. “Tiffany’s spoiled, Ashley. Don’t be mad.” In our three years of marriage, Tiffany had been his longest-running affair, the one he clearly doted on the most. I nodded, walking over with the divorce papers. “I’ve signed it. Once you sign, we can finalize the divorce on Monday.” Seeing Tiffany pouting and clinging to him, I added considerately, “I can move out today to give you two some space.” Tiffany’s eyes immediately lit up. “Oh, can I move in tonight then?!”
The day after I stopped loving him, I rented an apartment that I’d kept empty all these years. I couldn’t stand being in a place that carried Mark’s scent. “Just sign first. I’ll go pack my things.” I placed the document on the table and turned to get my suitcase from the balcony. “You don’t care about me at all!” Amidst Tiffany’s soft accusations, a warm body pressed against my back. Mark had one arm around me, the other reaching for my suitcase. “Ashley, are you still mad?” I felt a surge of nausea and instinctively tried to push him away. Mark only held me tighter. “You found out about the challenge, didn’t you? If you’re mad, once I’ve recovered, we can try an even bigger challenge…” “Don’t touch me!” I couldn’t help it. I stomped on his foot. As Mark winced in pain, I broke free from his embrace. As much as I used to crave his hugs, I now found them utterly repulsive. His arms had been wrapped around another woman just moments ago, and now he was holding me, whispering sweet nothings. A flicker of shock crossed Mark’s eyes. He maintained the pose of holding me. “Ashley, what will it take for you to stop being angry?” “If you don’t want to go tomorrow, we can pick another day, and I’ll go with you to get rid of the baby.” As he said this, his usual gentleness returned. But Mark’s gentleness was like a puddle of mud; anyone could step in it. I suppressed the urge to gag. “No need. Just sign the papers quickly. I’ll make space for you two.” The curve of Mark’s lips gradually straightened. “Ashley, I don’t want this baby.” “Stop acting out. I’m serious.” “So am I.” The darkness in Mark’s eyes deepened, his aura growing colder. Just as I thought he was about to explode, He simply curved his lips. “How about tomorrow? My friend’s having a birthday party. You don’t mind if I take Tiffany, do you?” Mark was smiling, but I felt no warmth from it. Whether he smiled or not was irrelevant to me now. I shook my head. “Whatever.” Mark turned without hesitation, striding over to sweep the crying girl into a princess carry. His voice was louder than usual, resonating through the house. “My little crybaby. I just said a few words to Ashley, and your eyes are all swollen. You’re only allowed to cry like that in bed from now on.” Tiffany choked back a sob and nodded. As they left, Tiffany spoke, seemingly casually. “Oh, are there roses here too?” “But they’re not as big as the ones you gave me, and not as red…” The rest of her words were swallowed by the closing door. I walked over, picked up the vase, flowers and all, and tossed them into the trash. Mark seemed to be deliberately provoking me, his Ins feed refreshed eighteen times that night. Every single post was sickeningly intimate shots with Tiffany. We were getting divorced anyway; there was no point in keeping him. I unfollowed him, then switched to my burner account to unfollow, only to find those eighteen posts were set to “visible only to me.” I’d made this burner account back when I still loved him, just to keep tabs on his shenanigans. Since I didn’t love him anymore, there was no need for it. I deactivated the burner account and started packing. By midnight, all my belongings had been moved to the rented apartment. For the first time, the air felt fresh, devoid of that foul, decaying stench, filled only with the scent of me and my baby. Lying on the unmade sofa, I slept soundly. Remembering I needed to ask him when he’d sign the divorce papers, I unblocked Mark and sent a message, only to get a red exclamation mark. I didn’t think much of it, quickly tidied up, and went to the supermarket for groceries. Even though I didn’t know if the baby was a boy or a girl, I couldn’t help but linger in the baby section. I picked out a few outfits, wondering if my child would like them. As I hesitated over a pink baby bottle, I heard a familiar voice. “The milk is over there! Don’t go that way…” It was Tiffany’s sickly sweet voice. Then Mark appeared, immediately rummaging through my shopping cart. “Ugh, Ashley, your taste is awful. Are you sure the baby will like these things?” “This outfit is for a five-month-old. The baby won’t even fit into it when it’s born, and you’re buying these already, right after getting pregnant?” “Ashley, do you… do you even like our baby?” Mark’s lips thinned, an expression I couldn’t decipher. I remembered that, from some unknown day, he had started looking at me like that often. Each time I asked what was wrong, Mark would open his mouth but say nothing for a long while. Then he started cheating. I put down the bottle and asked him, “Did you sign the agreement?” Mark scoffed. “Are you really that fond of this baby, or are you just still trying to get a rise out of me?” His expression was cold, completely unlike his usual gentle demeanor. He didn’t even bother to comfort Tiffany, who was now following him, red-eyed. I watched the woman publicly cling to Mark, demanding a kiss, and tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Does it matter?” “It’s either me and the baby, or just you.” Anyone who didn’t know him might think Mark was a deeply loving man. I stroked my belly. “Of course, it’s the baby.” A blood relative, someone who would love me for no reason. I had longed for it, for so long. Mark was, at best, a jerk I used to love. How could he compare to my child? Suddenly, Mark grabbed Tiffany by the waist. “She’s carrying my baby too, and I only want the child Tiffany gives me. Ashley, I don’t want the child you give me.” A flicker of shock crossed Tiffany’s eyes, quickly replaced by joy as she hugged him back, calling him ‘honey’. “Oh, don’t worry. This baby is for me. I would never ask you to take any responsibility for it,” I said. “Fine… just fine,” Mark ground out through clenched teeth. “Who knows if you’ll try to get child support from me!?” “I’m taking you to the clinic to get rid of it right now!”
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