The day my wife, Fiona Blanchett, found out she was pregnant, she booked a flight abroad. Her best friend saw the ticket and spoke in shock. “Are you really going to find Oren? But you already have Mason Warhol’s baby in your belly.” But Fiona’s voice was sweet as honey. “It’s exactly because I’m having his baby that I need to see Oren.” “Oren doesn’t like clean, boring young girls. He likes married women, especially pregnant ones.” “Now, I’ve finally become the type he likes best.” Fiona’s best friend was silent for a long time. “What about Mason? You guys have been married for years, and he treats you so well.” Fiona gave a soft laugh. “Mason will never know. I’m just letting loose for ten months.” “Once the baby is born, I’ll come back and be a good wife to him.” “The three of us will be a happy family.” I stood outside the door, my blood running cold. So Fiona was ecstatic, not because she was having a child with me. But because this child finally made her into what Oren liked. I didn’t push the door open. I just texted my lawyer. “Get the divorce papers ready.” “I don’t want her, and I don’t want the baby.” Fiona’s best friend still hesitated. “Fiona, aren’t you afraid Mason will find out?” Fiona laughed. “Mason loves me so much.” “Even if he finds out, a little coaxing and he’ll get over it.” I looked down at the baby shoes in my hand. The store clerk said this was the best-selling style this year, a popular pick for new dads. I had stood in front of the shelf for a long time, picking them out. But it turned out, Fiona had already figured out what to do with this baby long before I did. I didn’t push the door open. I just turned around, went downstairs, and threw the baby shoes into the trash. The shoebox made a very soft thud. Like something else falling and hitting rock bottom with it. By the time I returned to the living room, Fiona had come out of the study. Her hand still rested gently on her lower belly. Her expression was as soft as a mother truly looking forward to the birth of her child. If I hadn’t heard those words just now. I probably would have really felt happy in this moment. Fiona looked up at me, her eyes sparkling. “The doctor says the baby is very healthy.” “Mason, we’re finally having a baby.” “Are you happy?” My hands hanging at my sides stiffened for a long time. Finally, I gently placed one on her shoulder. “Happy.” Fiona smiled even sweeter. “I’m happy too.” “I’ve never been this happy.” These words fell into my ears like a fine needle. She really was happy. So happy she immediately booked a flight. So eager she couldn’t wait to go see another man while carrying my child. Fiona leaned into my arms and started excitedly talking about the nursery. “I want to buy an imported crib for safety.” “And a nanny, I’ll have my assistant screen a few candidates in advance.” She spoke so seriously. As if she were truly planning our future. But I suddenly remembered, she used to be just like this. Thoughtful, decent, flawless. For my birthday, she would book a restaurant a month in advance. Outsiders all said Fiona loved me very much. For an heiress like her to be willing to take care of a man to this extent was already rare.
I used to think so too. Until I accidentally saw the notes app on her phone. Oren only drinks hot lattes. Oren’s old injuries hurt every winter, remember to remind him to use pain patches. Listed one by one, crystal clear. And of course, she remembered my birthday too. It’s just that every year, her assistant would deliver the gift home in advance. She would post a photo of us on Instagram with the caption: “Happy birthday to my husband.” But on Oren’s birthday, she would bake a cake herself. Even after failing three times, she refused to let the nanny help. I stood at the kitchen door, watching the back of her hand get burned red by the baking pan. I asked her, “Who is it for?” Fiona paused for a moment, then quickly smiled and said, “An old friend.” I didn’t think much of it at the time, and even helped her whip the cream. Only later did I find out that old friend’s name was Oren. He was the one Fiona could never have in her youth. The one who got away, hiding in her heart for years. Fiona was still leaning against my arms, asking softly: “Mason, who do you think the baby will look like?” I suddenly felt how absurd this was. This child hadn’t even been born yet. And was already her excuse to run off to someone else. I said, “I don’t know.” Fiona looked up at me. Probably finally noticing my coldness, she frowned slightly. “What’s wrong with you?” “Is it too sudden? You haven’t processed it yet?” I looked into Fiona’s concerned eyes. In this moment, I couldn’t tell if she had even an ounce of sincerity. She seemed to treat me really well. But the person she loved was never me. She never took the initiative to hug me, never came close to me at night. Every time we were intimate, she was quiet to the point of indifference, never making a sound. I used to think that was just her personality. But in the study just now, when she mentioned Oren, her voice was as sweet as an eighteen-year-old’s. I finally understood, it wasn’t that Fiona wasn’t passionate. It was just that her passion never belonged to me. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a reply from my lawyer. “Mr. Mason, the divorce agreement has been drafted.” “Since it involves a divorce during pregnancy and child custody, things might get a bit complicated later.” I looked at the lawyer’s message, my fingers hovering over the screen. Fiona leaned in and asked, “Who is it?” I locked my phone and spoke plainly. “Work stuff.” She didn’t suspect a thing. Or rather, she never thought I would actually leave her. She just looked down and stroked her belly, her voice very soft. “Mason, I have to go abroad for a business trip tomorrow.” I looked into Fiona’s eyes. There wasn’t a hint of guilt in them. Only the anticipation of going to see someone. I was silent for a few seconds, then nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” Fiona smiled in satisfaction, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed my cheek. “You’re the best.” I used to fall for this every time. Whenever she called me that, all my anger would vanish. But now, that bit of warmth on my face just felt so dirty I wanted to wipe it off. That night, Fiona asked me to help her pack. With her hand resting on her belly, she ordered me around as if it were her right. “Pack those dresses too. And the perfume in the drawer.” “Oh, and take out that box in the very back of the closet.” I did as she said, packing everything into the suitcase one by one. Until I opened the box in the very back of the closet. Inside was a wine-red slip dress with very little fabric.
My fingertips paused. Fiona saw it, and instead of looking embarrassed, she smiled. “Just because a woman is pregnant doesn’t mean she can let herself go.” “If I meet a client, I at least need to look nice.” So she called Oren a client. I put the dress in the suitcase and saw the perfume she asked me to pack. It was a strong rose scent. But Fiona usually didn’t like perfume. She said the smell was too strong and gave her headaches. Once, I bought a bottle of woody fragrance and tentatively asked if she liked it. She just frowned and said: “Mason, don’t copy others with this flashy nonsense.” I never used it again after that. But now, she carefully placed that bottle of rose perfume in a shockproof bag. Like she was taking it to a very important date. Fiona reached out and grabbed a passport holder. There was a photo tucked inside. Fiona was looking up and smiling at Oren. It was a smile I had never seen before. Passionate, bright, and completely unreserved. I suddenly thought of our wedding day. Fiona walked toward me in her white veil, the look in her eyes so calm. When we exchanged rings, she even zoned out. I softly asked her what was wrong. She said, “Nothing, just suddenly thought of someone from the past.” I thought she was just nervous. Now I understand. At the moment she married me, the person she thought of was Oren. The next second, a men’s watch fell out from the lining of the suitcase. I completely froze. That watch was a gift I gave Fiona in our first year of marriage. She said at the time that the style was too masculine and didn’t suit her. I smiled and said: “Then let’s treat it as a token of our love.” “You don’t have to wear it, just keeping it is fine.” When Fiona saw the watch, her expression finally changed. But she quickly recovered and acted naturally. “Oren has always liked this brand.” “I figured I’d bring it to him.” I slowly looked up at her. “I gave that to you.” Fiona was taken aback. Probably not expecting me to speak in this tone. She frowned, her tone growing a bit impatient. “Mason, it’s just a watch.” “Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” “Oren is all alone abroad right now, with nothing around him.” “You have me, a home, and a baby. Why are you being so petty?” So my grievances could be pushed aside. My things could be given away. My marriage could be used as her fallback plan after a brief fling. I looked down at the watch and suddenly laughed. “Yeah, it’s just a watch.” Seeing that I didn’t press further, Fiona’s expression softened. She reached out to take the watch back. But I picked it up first and placed it in the outer compartment of the suitcase. “Put it here, it’s easier for you to grab.” She looked at me, seeming to feel something was off. “Mason, why are you acting so weird today?” I zipped up the suitcase, my voice very calm. “No.” “Just thinking that you’ll probably be really happy on this trip.” Fiona paused, then laughed. “Of course I’ll be happy.” She stroked her belly, a very gentle light appearing in her eyes. I watched her smile. The last bit of warmth in my heart completely froze over. She still didn’t know. As she was getting ready to fly to Oren’s side. My lawyer was already on his way. That night, Fiona did something rare and took the initiative to hug me before bed.
“Mason.” “When I get back, I promise I’ll be a good mom.” I closed my eyes and didn’t move. Fiona fell asleep quickly. Her breathing steady, the corners of her lips slightly tilted up. As if she were already seeing the person she wanted to see in her dreams. I sat up and picked up my phone. The lawyer sent the final version of the agreement. After reading it, I replied directly. “Deliver it tomorrow morning.” “I want her to sign it before she boards the plane.” The next morning, when the lawyer delivered the documents, Fiona only gave them a quick glance. “Buying a house? And I need to sign for that?” I didn’t answer. She seemed to have already assumed the answer. “Mason, I’m really in a hurry.” “Whatever house or car you want to buy, just buy it.” “You don’t need to specially bring these little things to me to sign in the future.” Fiona looked down and signed her name on the last page. After signing, she shoved the pen into my hand. “Happy now?” The lawyer stood to the side, his expression a bit subtle. I gently closed the document. “Yeah, we’re good.” Fiona seemed relieved and pulled her suitcase toward the door. Just before leaving, she turned around and kissed the side of my face. Like giving a little reward to an obedient pet. “I’ll bring you back a gift.” “Be a good boy at home.” At 3 PM, Fiona’s flight landed. She called me. I watched her name flashing on the screen, stayed silent for a few seconds, but answered anyway. “Mason, I’m here.” “The flight was smooth, and the baby was well-behaved, didn’t bother me at all.” Suddenly, Oren’s low laugh came through the phone. “I don’t know if the baby is well-behaved.” “But you’re much more obedient than before.” Fiona seemed to lightly swat him. “Oren, stop it.” “I’m letting Mason know I’m safe.” She told him to stop, but her voice was ridiculously soft. That shy tone was something I had never heard before. Oren leaned in closer, his voice almost coming through the receiver right against it. “Letting him know you’re safe?” “Do you want to tell him we’re in the same bed right now?” Fiona let out a sweet laugh. Like a teenage girl finally meeting the boy of her dreams. “Don’t be like this, he’ll hear you.” Oren’s voice got even lower. “Isn’t it more thrilling if he hears?” My hand gripping the phone slowly tightened. My knuckles turning white bit by bit. The next second, the sound of fabric rustling came from the other end. Along with Fiona’s suppressed, heavy breathing. She seemed to hurriedly cover the receiver. But some sounds only become clearer the more you try to hide them. “Oren… not here.” The call was hastily hung up. I sat on the couch, not moving for a long time. Actually, I had known all along she was going to see Oren. But to actually hear with my own ears how softly she laughed while beside another man. My chest still felt like it was being slowly squeezed by a hand, aching to the point of numbness. I had been married to Fiona for five years. To me, she was always decent, always thoughtful, always restrained. I used to think that was just the kind of person she was. But it turns out, no. She just saved all her loss of control, shyness, and passion for Oren. And what she gave me was the position of a husband. A home she could return to at any time after her ten-month fling. My phone suddenly vibrated. An unknown number sent a photo. Under the warm yellow light of the hotel room, Fiona’s cheeks were flushed, and the corners of her eyes were moist.
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