The bridal shop called, saying my fiancé had settled the full payment for the dress. But the consultant brought out a maternity gown. The bride on the order wasn’t me, and the wedding date wasn’t ours. Yet, the signature on the payment? My fiancé’s name, Alex Caldwell. I followed the address the consultant gave me and found a photography studio. Pushing aside the curtain, I saw a young woman, cradling her back, changing her shoes. She looked at me, frowned, and asked, “Who are you?” I handed her the bridal shop receipt, asking softly, “The groom’s number for final payment confirmation? Can you give it to me?” She smiled sweetly and rattled off my husband’s phone number. The woman cradled her back, her face still covered in bridal makeup, her lips a shimmering pink. “Are you new here?” She swept her eyes over me, her gaze lingering on the ring on my left hand. That ring? Alex gave it to me on our fifth wedding anniversary, putting it on my finger himself. He swore I was the only woman he’d ever give it to. The consultant stood by the door, too awkward to speak. The woman suddenly laughed. “Oh, excuse me. My fiancé is very thoughtful; he handles all the wedding dress arrangements.” I crumpled the receipt, then slowly smoothed it out. “What’s your fiancé’s name?” She raised an eyebrow, as if I’d said something offensive. “Alex Caldwell.” The photographer beside them coughed. “Cheryl, take it easy. Stress isn’t good for the baby.” Cheryl. Cheryl Greene. She held a pair of satin white shoes, her feet slightly swollen, her belly visibly protruding. She wasn’t newly pregnant. I stared at her stomach, a metallic taste burning in my throat. Just three months ago, Alex held me, promising that once his company project stabilized, we’d have the wedding ceremony we never had. He said he’d make up for the one he owed me. Turns out, he gave that ceremony to someone else. Cheryl lifted a hand to protect her belly, her tone turning cold. “Who exactly are you? If you don’t tell me, I’ll call my fiancé over.” “Call him.” I pushed the receipt back towards her. “Call him now.” An impatient flicker crossed her eyes, and she dialed a number right in front of me. The phone rang twice. A familiar voice came through the receiver. “Cheryl, my love, what’s wrong? Doesn’t the dress fit?” That ‘Cheryl, my love’ shattered the last sliver of hope I clung to. Cheryl looked at me triumphantly. “Some woman came with a receipt asking for your number. She’s being weird.” There was a pause on the other end. “What does she look like?” Cheryl’s smile deepened. “Thin, wearing a wedding ring, looks pretty rude.” Alex’s breathing hitched. “Tell her not to leave. I’m on my way.” After hanging up, Cheryl put her phone back in her bag, leaning back in her chair like a victor. “My fiancé will be here any minute. If you’re trying to con money out of us, you might as well give up now.” The photographer echoed her. “People these days, they see a pregnant woman dressed nicely and think they can pull a scam.” “A pregnant woman dressed nicely” – that phrase made me look at her wedding dress. The hem was embroidered with delicate pearls, and the waistline was very loose. I’d seen the regular version in the same store once. The price tag read eighty-eight thousand. Back then, Alex frowned, saying there was no rush for a wedding, as the company needed to circulate funds. I smiled and said it was fine. But now, he’s used our joint savings to buy a maternity wedding dress for another woman. Cheryl suddenly touched her belly. “Don’t worry, baby, Daddy’s coming soon.” Urgent footsteps sounded at the door. When Alex pushed through, his tie was crooked, and sweat beaded on his forehead. His face went white the moment his gaze met mine. Cheryl immediately stood up, sounding wronged. “Alex, she scared me.” Alex didn’t look at her. Nor did he walk towards me. He stood frozen in the middle, as if pinned by two pairs of eyes. I held up the receipt, my voice hoarse. “Alex Caldwell, explain yourself.” Cheryl froze. “You two know each other?” Alex reached out to grab me. “Southbrook, let’s talk outside.” Cheryl’s face changed. She clutched Alex’s sleeve, her voice trembling. “Who is Southbrook?” Alex hadn’t answered when another person walked into the photography studio. My mother-in-law, Brenda Caldwell, held a food container, her smile freezing on her face. “Cheryl, honey, Mom made you some soup…” The food container hit the doorframe with a dull thud.
That one word, ‘Mom,’ ripped the fragile peace of the studio wide open. Cheryl looked from Brenda to me, her sweet smile slowly crumbling. “Mom?” She repeated the word, her eyes hardening. “You call her Southbrook, so who am I?” Brenda reacted fastest. She placed the food container on the table and quickly walked to Cheryl’s side. “Cheryl, honey, don’t get upset. You’re carrying a Caldwell baby.” Hearing “baby,” Alex closed his eyes. I heard myself let out a laugh. It was soft, but it made everyone stiffen. Brenda glared at me. “What’s so funny? You’ve been married five years and haven’t had a single child! Are you going to stop Alex from having a family now?” She used to only say such things indirectly at the dinner table. Now, with a pregnant woman to back her up, she finally dropped the pretense of decency. Cheryl’s expression softened slightly, and she placed her hand back on her belly. “So, you’re his ex-wife?” Ex-wife. I looked at Alex. “Did you tell her we were divorced?” Alex’s lips moved. “Southbrook, I can explain.” “Explain what?” Brenda cut in. “Explain that you’re clinging to the position of Mrs. Caldwell? Explain that you have no family backing you up, and we Caldwells have been generous enough?” The photographer and makeup artist exchanged glances, and someone at the door subtly raised a phone. Alex finally said in a low voice: “No pictures.” Cheryl, hearing that “ex-wife” hadn’t been denied, regained her confidence. She lifted her chin. “Ms. Southbrook, since you two have no feelings left, don’t keep bothering Alex.” “I’m pregnant with his child, and the wedding is set.” “One should always have some decency.” Decency. Alex and I started from nothing, living in a cramped apartment. The deposit for his first office? I scraped it together by selling the jade bracelet my mother left me. He drank himself to a stomach ulcer during business dinners, and I spent three nights sleeping in the hospital hallway. When the Caldwells needed a down payment for a house, Brenda cried about wanting a place with an elevator. I transferred my pre-marital savings to him. Now they stood before me, lecturing me on decency. The edge of the receipt cut into my palm. I asked Alex: “Are we divorced?” Alex was silent. Brenda impatiently waved her hand. “It’s going to happen eventually. Do you have to make a scene and embarrass everyone?” “Southbrook, a woman over thirty shouldn’t make herself look pathetic.” Cheryl gently touched the hem of her wedding dress. “This dress is Alex’s promise to me and our baby.” She looked at me, her voice soft as a blade. “If you like it, once I’ve worn it, I can give it to you as a souvenir.” Someone around us gasped softly. Alex reprimanded her: “Cheryl!” But the reprimand was too soft, without any real weight. My phone suddenly vibrated. The bridal shop manager sent a message, saying the order information needed final confirmation and had sent me the last four digits of the payment card and a photo of the signed receipt. On the photo, the signature was Alex Caldwell. But the payment card? It was our joint family card, under my name. The money in that card was compensation from my father’s property sale, left to me. Alex had said it was better to put it together for investment, for higher returns. I turned my phone screen towards him. “You used my money to buy her a wedding dress?” Cheryl’s face darkened. “What do you mean, ‘your money’? Alex’s money is Caldwell family money.” Brenda immediately chimed in. “It’s marital assets! Why be so nitpicky?” Alex reached out and pressed down on my phone. “Southbrook, let’s go home first.” His palm felt hot. I pulled my hand away. “Which home? The one you prepared for her, or the one I put the down payment on?” As soon as I spoke, a flicker of panic crossed Cheryl’s face. Brenda suddenly stepped forward, raising her hand to slap my face. “Are you trying to humiliate my grandchild or not?!” The air of her palm brushed past my ear. Alex grabbed her wrist. But his other hand, clutched my arm. “Southbrook, stop making a scene.” He lowered his voice. “She’s pregnant.” That single sentence became his ultimate excuse, his reason for siding with her. Cheryl’s eyes welled up, and she leaned into Brenda’s embrace. “Alex, my stomach hurts.” Alex immediately released me, turning to support her. He threw me back half a step, and the receipt fluttered from my fingers, landing beneath the hem of the wedding dress.
In the hospital hallway, the smell of disinfectant choked me. Alex rushed into the emergency room with Cheryl in his arms, Brenda trailing behind, yelling for a doctor. I stood at the payment window, looking at the name on the screen. Cheryl Greene. Companion: Alex Caldwell. Relationship: Spouse. The nurse handed out a form. “Family signature.” Brenda snatched it, signing quickly. “I’m her mother-in-law.” The pen tip scratched the paper. I stared at that sentence, a cold numbness spreading through my chest. Alex emerged from the consultation room, his first words not an explanation to me. “Southbrook, you scared her just now.” “If anything happens to the baby, you won’t be able to bear the responsibility.” I stared at his shirt cuff. A smudge of foundation was on it, from Cheryl leaning against him. “How many months along is the baby?” Alex’s eyes darted away. “Over four months.” Over four months ago, it was my birthday. That day, he was on a business trip, claiming an emergency meeting for his project. I lit a cake alone, waiting until midnight, and received a red envelope from him. The note read, “Happy Birthday, honey. I’ll make it up to you when I get home.” — ‘Made it up to me’ right into someone else’s bed, apparently. Brenda came out of the consultation room door, pointing and scolding me. “The doctor said the pregnant woman was stressed and needs bed rest!” “Southbrook, are you happy now?” I was about to speak when Cheryl’s cries came from inside. “Mom, I don’t want the baby to be without a father.” Brenda rushed in to comfort her. Alex stood before me, his face etched with the familiar weariness. Whenever he came home late from work, I’d have a warm meal ready for him. Now, that face held only annoyance for me. “Southbrook, it’s already happened.” “Her getting pregnant wasn’t planned.” “I was going to tell you when the time was right.” I asked: “The ‘right time,’ was it when she was marrying you in that wedding dress?” Alex’s lips tightened. “Don’t use those words to needle me.” “I don’t not love you.” It was so absurd it made me want to throw up. “Alex Caldwell, you love me, so you got someone else pregnant?” “You love me, so you lied to her, saying I was your ex-wife?” “You love me, so you used my money to buy her a wedding dress?” His brows furrowed. “I’ll pay you back for the money.” His tone was like discussing a regular debt. My phone vibrated again. My best friend, Ashley Dawson, sent a message. “Southbrook, your mother-in-law is telling everyone in the family SnapChat group that you can’t have kids, and that you’re holding onto the Caldwell family for dear life.” Immediately after, a screenshot popped up. Brenda had posted Cheryl’s prenatal check-up photo. The caption read: “The Caldwell family finally has an heir. Some people cling to their position, but even heaven can’t stand it.” Someone in the group replied: “Alex should have replaced her sooner. A man can’t be without an heir.” Another said: “Southbrook always seemed so virtuous, but she’s really selfish.” I handed the screenshot to Alex. “Is this also ‘the right time’?” Alex’s face changed, and he immediately called Brenda. As soon as the call connected, Brenda’s voice echoed from the consultation room. “Did I say something wrong? Her inability to have children is a fact!” The door wasn’t fully closed. Everyone in the hallway heard it. The nurse looked up at me, her eyes filled with pity. That pity felt sharper, more cutting than any insult. I pulled out my phone, scrolling to a health report from five years ago. It clearly stated: “Fertility function normal.” The person who had issues that year? Alex Caldwell. Low sperm count, requiring long-term treatment. I had never told anyone. Because he said, a man’s pride shouldn’t be shattered. I drank all the fertility medications for him, endured all the judging stares from relatives for him. Now, he lets his mother call me infertile. Alex saw the report, his face instantly turning ashen. “Southbrook, don’t bring this up.” His voice was tight. “Please.” I looked at him, feeling for the first time that this man was as strange as a stranger. The consultation room door suddenly burst open. Cheryl stood, supported by the doorframe, tears clinging to her lashes. “Alex, are you still trying to protect her?” She bit her lip. “Then the baby and I will leave.” Alex immediately turned to support her. The report paper rustled in my hand, caught by the breeze. Cheryl glimpsed the words on it, her eyes flickering. The next second, she grabbed Alex’s hand, pressing it against her belly. “The baby moved.” Alex looked down, his palm touching her swollen abdomen.
That hand, which countless nights had rested on my stomach, saying he wanted a daughter just like me. Now it was pressed against another woman’s belly, his expression tense yet tender. I put away the report. The nurse reminded them to pay the bill. Brenda shoved the form into my arms. “You pay it.” “This whole mess started because of you. It’s only right that you cover the medical expenses.” Cheryl lowered her head, her voice timid. “Never mind, Mom. Don’t make trouble for Ms. Southbrook.” The more she said that, the more Brenda got worked up. “Hasn’t she caused you enough trouble already?” “Being someone else’s wife for so many years and not even laying an egg, and now she dares to bully a pregnant woman.” Alex’s face was grim. “Mom, ease up.” But he didn’t take the payment form. I placed the form back in Brenda’s hand. “Whoever’s responsible for the baby in her belly pays the bill.” Brenda’s voice rose. “You’re still a Caldwell, and a Caldwell’s child is your responsibility too!” The patients’ families in the hallway all looked over. Ashley called. “Southbrook, where are you? I’m coming over now.” Her hurried breathing came through the phone. Before I could answer, Alex snatched my phone and hung up. “Don’t make a scene.” My phone was clutched in his hand. “Give it back.” Alex lowered his voice. “Southbrook, calm down.” “Cheryl can’t be stressed today. I’ll take her home first, and then I’ll come talk to you tonight.” “Come home tonight.” As if I would still be waiting, leaving the living room light on for him, just like in the past. Cheryl suddenly leaned against the wall, bending at the waist. “Alex, I’m dizzy.” Alex shoved my phone back into my bag and turned to pick her up. His movements were so practiced, reminding me of the time he carried me to the hospital. I had acute appendicitis then; he called my name all the way, his hands shaking so much he couldn’t sign me in. I thought that was love. Brenda followed, clutching the prescription, bumping my shoulder as she left. “Don’t stand there looking pathetic. Go home and sign the divorce papers.” I stumbled backward from the impact. My phone fell out of my bag, the screen cracking. A little girl nearby picked it up and handed it to me. “Ma’am, your phone.” As I bent to take it, tears almost spilled onto her hand. Ashley called again. This time, I answered. “Ashley.” My voice was hoarse, unrecognizable. “Come pick me up.” Half an hour later, Ashley rushed into the hospital. Seeing my face, she raised a hand to go confront Alex. I pulled her back. “Take me home first. I need to get my things.” When the car stopped downstairs at our apartment complex, it was already dark. Two hallway lights were out, and a notice from the property management about overdue fees was taped to the elevator door. I’d paid most of the down payment for this apartment, but the deed was only in Alex’s name. The key slid into the lock, but wouldn’t turn. Ashley frowned. “Did they change the locks?” The door opened from the inside. Brenda stood behind it, holding my pajamas. Two suitcases sat on the floor. They were stuffed with my clothes, even my underwear was haphazardly thrown on top. She looked at me coldly. “You’re back just in time.” “Alex said you should move out for a few days. Don’t upset Cheryl.” In the living room, Cheryl leaned against a cushion, wrapped in my cashmere blanket. Alex sat beside her, pouring her a glass of warm water. On the table sat our wedding photo. It was turned facedown. Cheryl looked up at me, slowly placing her hand on her belly. “Ms. Southbrook, I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well today, so I have to stay here temporarily.” I walked into the living room, my hand touching the facedown photo frame. Alex immediately stood up. “Southbrook, don’t touch that.” The edge of the frame was half-lifted by my hand. Underneath, a copy of a new property deed. The owner’s section read: Alex Caldwell and Cheryl Greene.
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