After I found out I was pregnant, I decided to stop making a fuss. Even when my husband, Brandon, brought his childhood friend’s widow home, I pretended not to notice. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Clara has a bit of a fever. I just brought her here to recover.” I thoughtfully closed the door. “Take good care of her, then.” We had screamed at each other hysterically about her countless times, but he never once backed down. It wasn’t until I found out I was pregnant that Brandon’s attitude softened slightly. “After Allen passed, I genuinely just felt sorry for her, being pregnant and all.” I nodded. “Hmm, it gets cold at night. Remember to give her an extra blanket so she doesn’t get sick.” Seeing my indifference, Brandon’s brows furrowed even deeper. “You don’t care at all?” Caring used to exhaust me. Now, I just wanted to safely deliver this child, repaying him for saving my life. Everything else, I truly didn’t care about anymore. … Without waiting for my answer, Brandon frowned deeply. He held my hand, refusing to let go. “She suddenly got a fever. After a hospital check-up, the doctor said to keep an eye on her. She’s pregnant, after all, and I was worried, so I asked her to stay here tonight.” I smiled faintly, pulling my hand away. “I understand. No need to explain. I’ll sleep in the guest room.” Brandon’s expression stiffened. “Why aren’t you asking me?” I had asked countless times before, but all I got in return was his accusations. I said, “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Brandon was silent for a moment, then took my hand again. “I’ll have her leave once she wakes up. She’s just Allen’s…” I finished his sentence for him. “She’s just Allen’s widow. Allen pushed you away during the car accident, and on his deathbed, he asked you to take care of his pregnant wife. You just feel guilty. I won’t speculate about your relationship.” These words, I didn’t know how many times I had heard them. Brandon looked at me, a weary expression on his face. “Lydia, what do you want?” “Let her stay,” I said calmly. “It’s not the first time she’s slept in my bed.” Brandon’s breath hitched, his face changing. Half a month ago, after working overtime until the early hours, Brandon didn’t pick me up for the first time. I came home to find Clara in my pajamas and slippers, lying in the marital bed Brandon and I shared. Her vomit had ruined the first portrait Brandon ever painted for me. And Brandon was sitting calmly by her side, like a husband guarding his wife. I couldn’t stop trembling and had a huge fight with Brandon. “You didn’t pick me up just to be with her?” “Do you like her?” In the end, Brandon disdained explaining further. “Stop being so unreasonable! She’s not like you; Allen always doted on her, she’s innocent and naive. How could she have the dirty thoughts you imagine? Believe it or not.” My heart ached intensely, and I didn’t dare let my tears fall. Brandon refused to say more, slamming the door as he left. Memories faded, and I went to the guest room to make the bed. Brandon followed me, trying to discern any different emotions on my face. Unfortunately, there were none. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, whispering in my ear, “I’ll have the portrait repaired right away. It’s at the studio now. I’ll take you to see it tomorrow, okay?” His studio. I had almost forgotten about it. He was a painter and was very particular about anyone entering his workspace. I had tried several times to go, but he always changed the subject. Over time, I understood what he meant. For all these years, I had never stepped foot into his studio. The last time I tried to go to the studio was his birthday. I had bought a gift and cake, wanting to take him out to celebrate. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Clara, her pregnant belly prominent, chatting and laughing with him inside, as he painted her portrait. She even casually scribbled on his finished artwork, and he just laughed it off. A territory I couldn’t enter. Yet Clara could do as she pleased inside. Brandon and I had another big fight. “She just lost her husband, she’s not in a good mood, she just wanted to see my paintings.” “Why have you become so jealous?” He slammed the door and left. He didn’t even glance at the gift I had prepared for him. I patted the pillowcase. “It’s just a painting. You don’t need to bother.” Brandon froze, his face filled with disbelief. “Just a painting?” “That was the first painting I ever did for you. You said it was your favorite.” I didn’t reply, calmly lying down. I don’t know how long Brandon stood by the bed before he left. In the middle of the night, my calf cramped. Since I found out I was pregnant, my body had started to feel uncomfortable in various ways. I went to get a massage roller and, through the crack in the master bedroom door, saw Brandon massaging Clara’s calf. “Brandon, maybe I should just go. Scarlett will just argue with you again if she finds out.” Brandon was silent for a moment, then said, “It’s not your fault. It’s okay.” “Really? But lately, I feel like you haven’t been replying to my messages promptly. If Allen were still here…” Her words trailed off, and Clara’s crying tone returned. Brandon was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry to both of you.” The cramp in my calf twisted more painfully. I gently pushed open the door. “Excuse me.” Seeing me, Brandon immediately pushed Clara’s leg away and abruptly stood up. Clara, who was over eight months pregnant, struggled to prop herself up. “Scarlett, don’t misunderstand. My leg cramped, and I asked Brandon to help me…” “It’s fine. I just came to get something.” I glanced at them, picked up the massage roller from beside the bed. “Sorry to interrupt. Please continue.” Clara’s face stiffened, and she anxiously looked at Brandon. After Clara left, Brandon came to my room. “Lydia,” he pinched his brows, his voice tired, “let’s talk. Clara and I…” I thought he was going to talk about something else. But it was still this. “I know,” I said, “you feel guilty towards Allen and just want to make amends to her and her child. I understand completely and don’t mind.” Brandon’s face instantly turned pale. “Really? But you used to…” I smiled. “Believe it or not.” This was once his reply to my hysterics. Now I returned it to him verbatim. He heavily wiped his face, then knelt on one knee, holding my calf. “Let me massage it for you.” I didn’t refuse. From this angle, I could clearly see the distinct scar on the side of his neck. On New Year’s Eve, during the third year of our relationship, a stampede occurred at our date spot. Brandon used his arms to fiercely protect me in a corner, creating a tiny space for me to survive. A sharp object had left a long gash on the side of his neck. As blood splattered, he didn’t forget to tell me, “Lydia… don’t be scared. I’m here…” If that year’s wound had been just one millimeter deeper, he would have died on the spot. If it weren’t for him, I would have died in that accident long ago. “Lydia.” I snapped out of my thoughts. His tone was a bit coaxing. “I’ll sleep here with you tonight. Tomorrow I’ll change all the sheets in the master bedroom.” “Actually, you shouldn’t have let her leave. What if she’s uncomfortable?” His movements paused, and he said in a deep voice, “She’s single. It’s not appropriate for her to stay over.” After only a few presses, his phone rang. It was Clara. He glanced at me and put it on speaker. “Brandon! I twisted my ankle and fell. My stomach hurts a little, and I can’t get up right now. Can you come help me?” Brandon instinctively started to walk out, then stopped when he saw me. He opened his mouth, but hesitated to speak. I spoke first. “See? I told you she should have stayed.” His brows furrowed tightly. “I’ll go check on her. I’ll be right back.” I held my breath, touching my belly. I lay down, covering my lower abdomen, and reminisced over the years, sleep completely gone. After we got married, he was diagnosed with severe male infertility, and even with IVF, he only had one chance. Those few days, we barely slept. I saw him several times, clutching the divorce papers, silently crying, then hesitatingly hiding them again. I was the first to come to terms with it. Our relationship was strong, and he had saved my life. Even though the IVF process was incredibly difficult, I still yearned for a life of having children with him and growing old together. During this time, Allen had an accident, leaving behind a pregnant Clara. At that time, I had to inject myself five times a day, take a handful of pills, and have ultrasounds and blood tests every two days. In the beginning, he accompanied me throughout. Later, when I was getting injections, he was accompanying Clara to her prenatal check-ups. When I was having blood drawn, he was helping Clara prepare her hospital bag. We argued more and more frequently. On the egg retrieval day, I lay naked on the operating table, enduring the excruciating pain of a 20-centimeter-long needle piercing my ovaries. I bit my lip until it bled from the pain, silently shedding tears. At that time, I believed that once we had a child, Brandon would realize who his priority should be. When I was pushed out of the operating room looking for him, I found he was already gone. Only a message on my phone: “Clara, being pregnant, is threatening to jump. I had to go. You have doctors taking care of you, don’t worry.” Before I could calm my grief, I received a deliberate call from Clara. On the phone, her voice choked with sobs. “Brandon, if Allen were still here, I wouldn’t be neglected like this! You and Scarlett have such a good relationship; I could have had that too, but Allen cruelly abandoned our child and me!” Brandon’s sigh was trembling. “I will never abandon you in my life.” Despair and anger made the pain even more pronounced, piercing directly into my heart. I couldn’t help it and swore at Clara with many harsh words. When Brandon returned, another fierce argument ensued. “She’s pregnant and just lost her husband, she’s depressed. How can you curse her like that? Aren’t you afraid of pushing her to her death?” “Why are you so heartless now?” “I’m so disappointed in you!” He didn’t care about Clara’s overstepping boundaries, only knew how to criticize me. I jumped onto the windowsill like a madwoman, yelling and questioning: “Brandon! What about me?!” “I take injections and medication, undergoing IVF, just to have a child with you. Am I being pathetic?!” Brandon was scared. He hugged me tightly, his palms trembling as he stroked the back of my head. “Lydia, I said too much. I’m sorry.” “From now on, I’ll only accompany you.” Brandon kept his word. For a while afterward, he proactively cut off contact with Clara, stayed by my side, and personally prepared all three meals a day. At night, he held me, kissing me tenderly until I fell asleep. Half a month later was the embryo transfer surgery. He escorted me outside the operating room, devoutly kissing my forehead. “Lydia, don’t be scared. I’ll be right outside.” “You’ll see me as soon as you come out.” But when I was pushed out of the operating room, I only saw a bouquet of flowers by the hospital bed. And a message from him: “I’m sorry, Lydia, Clara’s baby’s heartbeat is having issues. I have to go check on her. You have a doctor taking care of you, don’t worry.” I closed my eyes, and the tears I expected surprisingly didn’t fall. I simply replied: “Okay.” As my thoughts drifted, my hand was still resting on my lower abdomen. Now, when I thought of Brandon, only one thought remained in my mind. To bear his child, to repay him for saving my life. Everything else, it didn’t matter. Brandon didn’t return until three days later. For those three days, where he was, what he was doing, and who he was with – I didn’t ask at all. I just carried on with my own routine. Clara frequently sent him thank-you messages. I didn’t need to guess where Brandon had been. He kept staring at me, wanting to say something, but not knowing how to explain. I was too lazy to think about it. “The portrait is repaired. I brought it back,” he asked, “should I hang it in the master bedroom?” The painting showed me smiling brightly. I hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “Whatever,” I said. Brandon’s expression stiffened, and he said no more. He brought back a lot of groceries, made a table full of dishes, and led me to sit down. “Clara bought all the ingredients. She felt she had inconvenienced us.” I didn’t even spare him a glance, just focused on eating. “She was on bed rest for three days at home,” he explained softly. “It wasn’t right for me not to take care of her.” “I slept on the sofa for several nights.” I nodded quietly. Brandon picked up a shrimp for me. “She has surveillance cameras at her house. If you don’t believe me, I can show you the video.” I smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. I won’t cause her any more trouble. No need to explain.” Brandon’s movements paused, and he heavily put down his chopsticks. “Lydia, you’re different from before.” I wondered, “Isn’t it good that I’m quiet?” Brandon’s face instantly turned ashen. “Lydia…” Halfway through the meal, my lower abdomen suddenly cramped, and cold sweat immediately broke out! I was trembling all over from the pain. “The food… something’s wrong.” Brandon, in a panic, scooped me into his arms and carried me to the car. “Don’t be scared, we’re going to the hospital!” Halfway there, Clara’s call came through. “Brandon, I… I’m going into labor, I’m scared…” “Can you come be with me?” The car screeched to a halt by the roadside. I clutched my clothes, suppressing the excruciating pain, waiting for his decision. Brandon’s breathing grew heavy. He looked at me, covered in cold sweat, and after a long moment, said, “Lydia, you’re still early in your pregnancy, there shouldn’t be any danger.” “I know you’re in a lot of pain, but her husband died, and she has no one to rely on. She needs me…” I waved my hand, gritting my teeth, and opened the car door myself.
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