## After five years of marriage to my husband, I finally got pregnant with our child. Overjoyed, I went to share the news with him, only for him to respond coldly: “Having Ethan as my child is enough for me.” It wasn’t until I discovered that my husband had been sending flowers to his ex-wife every Valentine’s Day that it finally hit me: He had never truly moved on from her. All he ever wanted was to have a child with the person he actually loved. Without hesitation, I scheduled an appointment to terminate the pregnancy and handed him a printed copy of the divorce papers. “This relationship? I’ll be the one to walk away.” When I brought home the pregnancy test results, my husband was in the kitchen helping his stepson bake a cake. “Claire, come over here! Look at the fruit Ethan cut himself—isn’t it great?” The way he looked at his stepson was full of tenderness. He was, without a doubt, a wonderful father. For five years, I had often wondered if my husband would treat our child with the same love and care he showered on Ethan if I ever got pregnant. “Babe, I’ve got some great news to share!” He smiled at me, his face lighting up. “Look at how happy you are! What’s going on?” I walked quickly to his side, holding the test results up like a trophy. “Zach, I’m pregnant! Once the baby’s born, Ethan won’t have to play with his toys by himself anymore!” But suddenly, his expression darkened. His voice turned cold. “Having Ethan is enough for me.” Ethan, overhearing this, threw a tantrum. He grabbed the finished cake and smashed it onto the floor. Frosting splattered everywhere. “Dad! If she has a baby, I’m leaving! I’ll go live with Mom! She already told me that if she has a baby, you won’t love me anymore!” Tears streamed down his face as he cried uncontrollably. My husband immediately hugged him, trying to calm him down. “Ethan, I promised your mom you’d be my only child, okay? Don’t cry.” Ethan sniffled and finally stopped crying but turned to glare at me with resentment. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. After five years of marriage, had my husband never considered having a child with me? Sensing my disappointment, my husband sighed. “Claire, I’m just not ready to have another child yet. Can you give me some time?” I quietly went to the bedroom to manage my emotions. On the nightstand sat a model airplane my husband had built for Ethan and a scarf he had hand-knit for him. I couldn’t quite describe how I felt. I collapsed onto the bed, resting my hand on my stomach. He only wanted Ethan. But what about our child? Feeling overwhelmed, I ended up taking an afternoon nap for the first time in years. When I woke up, my husband was sitting by the bed with a jewelry box in his hands. “Claire, I’m sorry about earlier. While you were sleeping, I went out and bought you something—a necklace. Let me put it on for you.” He opened the box, revealing a delicate gold necklace. He swept my hair to the side and fastened it around my neck. “Claire, your health has always been fragile, and I’m worried about the risks of you having a baby. I didn’t mean what I said earlier—I wasn’t thinking clearly. And as for what my ex-wife said, I don’t care about that. Ethan’s just a kid; I’m more concerned about how he’s feeling.” Seeing that I was still upset, he added, “Claire, my ex-wife left me when I was at my lowest, but you stayed. You’ve been with me through it all, and you’re the one I love most. Don’t overthink this, okay?” I thought back to the year I met him. He couldn’t even scrape together $300 and had to move from place to place with his son, struggling to make ends meet. After we got married, I sold my dowry to help him start his business. Over time, he earned more and more money and treated me like a queen. He even made an effort to bring Ethan and me closer, knowing his son might feel uneasy about me being in their lives.
I caved. Since my husband had taken the initiative to explain things, I decided there was no point in holding a grudge. Just as I was about to say something, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then stepped out onto the balcony to take the call. For some reason, I could sense that something was off. When he returned, his tone had changed. “Claire, let’s keep the baby. It’s our child, after all. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of so you can have a safe pregnancy.” I nodded slightly, but something about his sudden change of heart didn’t sit right with me. That evening, Zach cooked dinner himself. He even took a picture of the ultrasound report and posted it on Facebook with a caption about how excited he was. But that very post brought his mother to our door. “I was wondering why Ethan’s been so upset lately. Turns out, it’s because *you*—this little homewrecker—managed to get yourself pregnant with Zach’s child! You’re manipulative, aren’t you? Trying to use a baby to tie him down, huh?” Her words were like daggers, sharp and unrelenting. She had never liked me. When Zach and I got married, he didn’t have much money, and my parents had asked him to contribute at least a little financially to the wedding. That small request had become a source of endless criticism from her. She had clung to that grudge, accusing me of making things unnecessarily difficult for Zach, and she loved to remind me that, in her day, no one asked for dowries. Now, she had found the perfect excuse to berate me again. “I only recognize Ethan as my grandchild! When Zach married his ex-wife, Jessica, they didn’t spend a dime on the wedding!” To make her point even clearer, she didn’t hesitate to bring up Zach’s ex-wife, Jessica, just to spite me. I turned to Zach for help, desperation in my eyes. He sighed and said, “Mom, Jessica and I have been over for years. Can we not do this?” His mother’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But you still love her, don’t you?” Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t help but wonder—did Zach still have feelings for his ex-wife? I tried to silence that thought, reminding myself to trust my husband. But the sound of a chair being kicked over snapped me out of it. “Enough, Mom!” Zach’s voice boomed, startling her into silence. “I said not to bring this up anymore! And don’t mention Jessica in front of Claire again—it’ll just upset her.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated, then gently helped me back to the bedroom to rest. Lying there, I chastised myself internally. Zach had done so much to protect me—how could I let myself doubt him like that? The next day, I woke up to the smell of food. It was already 11 a.m., and Zach was setting the last dish on the table. “Wait, is that bell peppers?” I asked, surprised. “I thought you hated them? Why’d you cook them today?” Before he could answer, the doorbell rang. Zach’s mother hurried to open the door. It was Ethan and Jessica, his ex-wife. His mother’s face lit up as she ushered them in. “Jessica, come in! You know, Zach still thinks about you. Look! He even made bell peppers for you—just like he used to. Go ahead, try them and see if they still taste the same!” Zach froze, panic flashing across his face. He leaned in close to whisper to me, “Claire, I made them for Ethan.” He reached out as if he wanted to hold me but stopped himself halfway, withdrawing his hand with an apologetic look. “Ethan’s here. I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.” The three of them looked like a picture-perfect family, while I, the one who was supposed to be his wife, felt like an outsider. Jessica’s gaze drifted to my stomach. After a pause, she said, “Once your wife has the baby, I’ll take Ethan to live with me. You’ll have your own child, so there’s no need for you to worry about mine anymore.” Her words seemed like an attempt to draw a clear line between her and Zach, but I could tell she was testing him, waiting to see how he would react. Zach didn’t respond. Instead, he quietly placed a piece of beef on my plate. But I’m allergic to beef. Jessica gave him a long, searching look before saying, “Zach, do you even know what you really want?”
My husband’s sharp gaze swept over Jessica, but she just laughed unabashedly. “It’s time you figured it out,” she said, grabbing her bag. “I’ve got things to do. Ethan can stay with you for a few days.” With that, she walked out the door. My husband’s eyes lingered on her retreating figure for a moment before he quickly looked down, avoiding my gaze. Ethan stared at him, wide-eyed. “Dad, Mom says you love her the most. So why are you with Aunt Claire?” My husband frowned, his voice curt. “You’re too young to understand.” Under the table, he squeezed my hand, signaling me to stay calm. His mother snorted. “Your dad’s just trying to upset your mom, that’s all!” I could tell she said it to get under my skin, and honestly, it worked. My mind was already spinning. “I have work to do,” Zach said, setting his fork down and getting up to leave. But Ethan clung to his sleeve, his voice trembling. “Dad, I hate you! Mom’s always crying because of you!” My usually gentle husband suddenly snapped, shouting, “Go study! If you don’t finish by eleven, don’t even think about going to bed!” Ethan froze for a moment before bursting into tears, but Zach didn’t flinch. After that day, Zach started treating me better than ever. To the point where, if I’d asked for the stars, he might have tried to pluck them from the sky for me. When I was about six weeks pregnant, Zach suddenly threw on a jacket late at night, getting ready to leave. I handed him a thicker coat. “It’s cold outside. Are you heading back to the office this late?” He hesitated for a moment, then placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, looking serious. “Jessica has a high fever. You know her family isn’t around, so I…” “Go ahead,” I said, cutting him off, my face expressionless. He seemed anxious, worried I might be upset. “I’ll be back soon. I don’t have feelings for her anymore. I’m just taking her to the hospital because she’s Ethan’s mom.” I pushed him gently toward the door, slipping the car keys into his hand. The next morning, he called me from the hospital, asking if I could bring Ethan over to see his mom. I didn’t hesitate. I woke Ethan up, got him dressed, and took him to the hospital. “Claire, you haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Zach asked when we arrived. “I’ll go grab breakfast for all of us. Wait here.” As soon as he left, Jessica pointed to the phone Zach had accidentally left on the nightstand. “Zach and I have always loved each other,” she said, her tone dripping with smugness. “If you open our chat history, you’ll see exactly what I mean.” Her words were like a lure, and against my better judgment, I picked up his phone and unlocked it. The first thing I saw was a recurring order: every Valentine’s Day, Zach had been sending Jessica flowers. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel angry. Instead, I felt a strange sense of relief. Ethan, oblivious to my emotions, laughed and pointed at me. “Mom, look! Aunt Claire’s eyes are red!” The hospital was twenty kilometers from home. I didn’t take a cab or a bus. I walked the entire way, letting the cold wind clear my head. When I got home, I calmly drafted a divorce agreement, printed it out, and scheduled an appointment for a termination. Later that evening, Zach came home carrying a bag of hot food. “Claire, why’d you leave? You haven’t eaten yet. Come sit down.” His mother, who had been lingering nearby, rolled her eyes at me and said mockingly, “What’s next? Do you need my son to spoon-feed you too?” Zach’s face hardened. “Mom, can you stop being so rude to Claire?” But I wasn’t in the mood to watch him play the role of the perfect husband anymore. I handed him the divorce papers. “I’m done. This marriage is over. I’ll take the house and the car—as compensation. You don’t love me, so let’s not pretend anymore. I’ll terminate the pregnancy. There’s no point in bringing this child into the world.”
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