Five years into our marriage, I took a pill bottle to the hospital, complaining that the ‘Vitamin C’ my wife bought tasted unusually bitter. The doctor examined it, then looked up at me. “This isn’t Vitamin C,” she said. “Doctor, could you say that again?” “I could say it a hundred times, it wouldn’t change,” the doctor pointed to the bottle. “It’s Mifepristone. Too much won’t just sterilize you; it’s also incredibly harmful to your health.” My throat felt clogged, choked by something unseen. My hand clenched around the bottle, knuckles white. “That’s impossible. My wife prepared these for me. Her name is Veronica, and she’s a doctor here too.” The doctor looked at me, her expression turning strange, with an unreadable hint of meaning. Finally, she just smiled. “Look, kid, you really should consider a psych evaluation. Dr. Veronica’s husband? We all know him. She just had a baby a couple of months ago. Don’t get caught up in fantasies; there’s nothing there for you.” She then pulled out her phone and showed me a group photo. In the picture, Veronica, wearing a white coat, held a baby in her arms. Beside her stood a man, his eyes crinkling with a smile. It was Liam, the guy she always introduced as her ‘foster brother.’ A buzzing noise filled my head, and my mind went blank. But the doctor said that was Veronica’s husband, and their child. My breath hitched, heavy and ragged. I stumbled into the elevator, desperate to reach the fifteenth floor, to find Veronica and demand answers. Just as the elevator doors closed, two familiar voices drifted in. I must have been well-covered today, with a hat pulled low, because the people ahead didn’t recognize me. They spoke freely, without any caution. “Veronica, aren’t you worried Ashton will find out? Why go through all that trouble to get him back? If you’d just married Liam earlier, you wouldn’t have to hide seeing your own kid like this.” It was Chloe’s voice. Veronica’s voice was cold. “He won’t find out. Chloe, watch your mouth. You know what to say and what not to say around Ashton.” “I really don’t get you,” Chloe scoffed. “Liam came to live with you when he was five. You doted on him so much back then, but when he grew up, Ashton just… swept him away.” “You sent Liam away for Ashton, then went to great lengths to bring him back. Who do you actually love?” Veronica was silent for a long moment before she finally spoke. “I love Ashton, but I can’t let go of Liam either. The thought of him struggling those years he was abroad just tears me apart.” “Ashton has the official title, but the child belongs to Liam, right? At least give him someone to depend on.” Chloe sighed, then pressed on. “What if you and Ashton had a child? Could you truly be fair to both of them? Liam is my cousin, after all.” *Ding*—The elevator chime suddenly rang out. The opening doors coincided with Veronica’s words: “I won’t.” Chloe paused, confused, unsure if Veronica meant she wouldn’t have a child or wouldn’t show favoritism. Bewildered, she followed her out. But I understood. She meant, they wouldn’t have a child. Because she had already prepared sterilization pills for me, removing any potential threat to Liam. The elevator was packed, hot and stuffy, but I felt like I’d plunged into an ice hole, chilling me to the bone. Not until the elevator reached the first floor did I gasp for air like a drowning man, coughing violently. My phone vibrated in my pocket, the screen lighting up—it was a screenshot of an airplane ticket from Veronica: \[*Ashton, see you at the race tomorrow. Remember to wear the good luck charm I got you.*] Seeing that message, the torrent of emotions I’d been holding back burst, and tears streamed down my face. Doctors are busy, but in all our five years of marriage, Veronica had always been there at the finish line for every one of my races, even if it meant a red-eye flight. She’d book the restaurant in advance, buy flowers, and greet my victory. Every single year. I remembered her friends teasing me, saying I was her ultimate prize, the one she’d fought tooth and nail to get back. To bring me back home, she’d battled foreign clubs, often pushing the limits; To keep me, she’d poured fortunes into hiring a top-tier coaching team, even opening a racing club exclusively for me. After we married, her devotion knew no bounds. He once mumbled in his sleep that he missed his mom, and she spent the entire night pulling every string, finding his mother’s lost keepsakes before dawn. But this Veronica, this very same woman, had secretly built another life behind my back. It suddenly clicked. No wonder Liam knew every corner of Veronica’s home better than I did. No wonder a guy who’d lived abroad for years knew all her friends’ nicknames. No wonder a “foster brother” could make her clear her surgery schedule for half a year to go racing with him. There was no ‘foster brother.’ He was a ‘child-husband’—a practice where a child is raised in a family to marry one of their own. Liam had been groomed to be Veronica’s husband since childhood. Just moments ago, I’d been thinking that if Liam dared to interfere, I wouldn’t tolerate it. Now I realized I was the intruder, and it was *my* place to leave. A bone-chilling cold crept up from my feet, numbing my limbs. I always thought people would scream and cry when they broke down. But now, in this moment, I understood that true collapse was silent. Only the unstoppable tears and a heart sunk to the abyss told me I was dying inside. It felt as if a giant hand was squeezing my heart, trying to wring out the last drop of blood. My phone vibrated again. It was a family photo from Liam, with a caption: \[*Ashton, don’t hog a spot that isn’t yours anymore. I thought you’d be smart enough to leave, but I guess you’re shameless. Veronica says the baby looks like her. What do you think?*] I just glanced at it and exited. He wants it? Fine, he can have it. But I knew Veronica too well. Once she set her mind on something, she wouldn’t let go easily, even if she no longer wanted it. My finger hovered over the dial pad for a long time, finally pressing a number I’d almost forgotten. The moment the call connected, I heard my own voice trembling. “Morgan, that old bet… is it still on?”
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