My husband, Liam, had been taking me, eight months pregnant, to this cheap fried chicken place daily. He always ordered the same $4.99 combo. I told him I was sick of fried chicken and asked him to get me a salad instead. He slammed the fried chicken right into my face, his eyes practically spitting fire. “I drive a cab every day to support you, and you still dare to be picky? Ungrateful bitch!” Then he immediately turned, flashing a fawning smile at Tiffany, the curvy, sexy owner of the fried chicken shop. “My apologies! My wife is just being extra about that! Tonight, all the fried chicken in the shop is on me!” With that, he snatched $1000 from me and handed it to Tiffany. That $1000 was for my prenatal checkup today. I forced a bitter smile. I remembered how, ever since we got married, Liam and I had moved into a cramped, dark basement apartment, scrimping on every single penny. Liam always used to reassure me: “When I make it big, I’ll treat you and our child like royalty.” But I never expected him to cheat before he even made it big. Sobbing, I ran to the Dean’s office and collapsed into his arms. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I want a divorce!”
“Bang!” The fried chicken smacked hard against my head, sauce dripping down my hair and into my collar. Before I could even react, a swift slap sent my head reeling to the side. My head was buzzing. I pointed at him, utterly incredulous. “You just hit me?!” Tiffany, the owner, who had been busy in the back, rushed over with a worried look. “What’s going on? Liam, your wife is pregnant, and pregnant women are so emotional. If she did something wrong, you just need to be more understanding.” She shot me a sly glance, a smug smirk playing on her lips in the shadows. Liam, who had just been furious, instantly plastered on a smile. “Yes, you’re right. You’re so thoughtful.” Did something wrong? All I said was I didn’t want fried chicken anymore. I just wanted a salad! For a pregnant woman, eating fried chicken every single day was totally unhealthy. Tears welled up in my eyes, unbidden, as I clutched my enormous belly, feeling completely lost. The whispers around me grew louder, and Liam awkwardly cleared his throat. “Chloe, I’m trying so hard. Look, even for fried chicken today, I only ordered one for you. I didn’t even get one for myself.” The cheap perfume Tiffany wore, mixed with the greasy smell of the fried chicken shop, grated on my nerves. But my good manners, however, wouldn’t let me make a scene. I took a deep breath, hastily wiped my face with a tissue, and started to leave. Tiffany, still grinning, stopped Liam. “Liam, what about this broken plate…?” “Oh, my bad. It messed up your business. I’ll pay for the plate.” He spoke fawningly, then turned to everyone in the shop. “My apologies, everyone! My treat tonight, order whatever you want!” The customers cheered and clapped. “What a generous guy!” “We know a man’s struggles!” “Another 10 bottles of beer over here!” Cheers erupted, mixed with boisterous shouts, drowning out everything else. My steps faltered, and my hands, hidden in my sleeves, clenched into fists. For the first time in my life, I didn’t wait for him. I hailed a cab and left alone.
It was a thirty-minute drive, and already past ten at night. I, a heavily pregnant woman in her third trimester, took a cab from downtown to the suburbs, and Liam hadn’t sent a single text apologizing or asking if I was okay. Clutching my phone, my stomach gave a sharp, painful lurch. The taxi slowly pulled up to a muddy, narrow alley. I was just about to pull out my phone to pay when I heard a “ding!” “Your bank card has been debited $1000.” I stared at the message that popped up, my mind going blank with a sudden “boom.” “Come on, pay up! Stop dawdling, I’ve got another fare waiting!” the driver impatiently snapped. “Right, right, sorry.” My hands trembled as I entered my PIN, but the machine flashed “insufficient balance.” “How about this, sir? I’ll run upstairs and get you cash.” The driver slammed a fist on the steering wheel, furious. “Hurry up! If you don’t have money, why call a cab? What a freakin’ pain in the butt at this hour!” I bit back tears and hurried upstairs, got the money, and sent the driver off. Even as he drove away, I could hear him muttering curses about me. Choking on the exhaust fumes, I slumped onto the curb, utterly defeated, burying my head in my arms and sobbing. I don’t know how long passed before someone hugged me from behind. A wave of stale alcohol hit me. “Get lost,” I pushed him away. Liam didn’t pull back; instead, he rested his chin on my shoulder, nuzzling gently. “Baby, driving a taxi has been so stressful lately. I’ve been neglecting you, I’m sorry.” My body stiffened. He used to do that back when we were dating, a little trick to charm me. It meant he was hoping for forgiveness, no matter how badly he’d screwed up. I touched my belly and sighed deeply. Maybe he really was under too much pressure. Back home, I immediately turned on the heater and started to shower. Halfway through, the light went out. A cold draft swept through, and I couldn’t stop sneezing. I yelled outside: “Liam, why did the heater turn off! Did we run out of electricity credits?” I called again and again, but silence. What was going on? Our apartment was tiny, barely 500 square feet. Was he deaf? No choice, I quickly finished my shower and went out – the water heater was off. “Liam! Liam! Get out here, now!” I stomped my foot, screaming, so angry I could barely breathe. He hurried out, wearing an apron, a chef’s knife still dripping water in his hand. “Did you turn off the water heater?” I asked, softening my tone. “Sorry… electricity is just too expensive. You’re not that delicate, are you?” “I’ll make you a bowl of hot noodle soup to warm you up.” He then ducked back into the kitchen. While I waited at the table for five minutes, I checked our remaining electricity credits. Sure enough, we were in arrears again. A wave of sadness washed over me. Watching Liam busy in the kitchen, my chest felt tight and uncomfortable. The noodles were brought out – just clear broth and plain noodles, not even a single green vegetable. I took a bite. It was bland and tasteless, like he’d forgotten the salt. Liam, wiping his hands on his apron, looked at me expectantly. “How is it? Good?” I ate two bites, then couldn’t manage any more. I looked around our cramped apartment, feeling even more stifled. “I’m going to go wait tables at the restaurant. I need to earn back the electricity money.” Liam nodded like a bobblehead.
My main job was a nurse; the restaurant work was a side hustle, from 10 PM to 11 PM, for $10 an hour for the graveyard shift. The icy water was brutal, making my chapped hands ache and turn a painful red, constantly splashing onto my belly. My baby seemed to protest too, a few sharp kicks against my ribs. Dirt and grime clung to my fingers, and I saw what looked like a customer’s vomit. My hand trembled. “Crack!” The plate slipped from my grasp and shattered on the floor. Mr. Henderson, the manager, stood with his hands on his hips, jabbing his finger hard into my temple, his voice booming. “What do you think you’re doing?! Get out! You’re not working today!” I sharply raised my head, tears blurring my vision. “Please, no! You know my situation…” Mr. Henderson glanced at the leftovers on a nearby plate, grabbed a random plastic bag from the floor, and started dumping the food in. Greens, roasted chicken, sweet soup… all mixed together, it looked like pig slop. The tied-up plastic bag was unceremoniously tossed to the floor. “Take this and get out! Aren’t you always pulling these little stunts?!” Mr. Henderson sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, intentionally raising his voice to mock me. I walked home like a zombie, my stomach aching with hunger. Clutching my lower back, I went to the kitchen and found the noodle bowl and forks still sitting in the sink, unwashed. I headed straight to the bedroom. What greeted me was a room in utter disarray: clothes, shoes, instant noodle cups… everywhere. Liam was sprawled on the bed, sleeping soundly, snoring like a freight train. Was he that tired? I was exhausted too… Enduring the aches, I washed the dishes in the kitchen. When I went to throw out the trash, I saw two eggshells at the bottom of the bin. The tears I’d held back for so long burst forth when I saw those two eggshells. He’d put two eggs in his noodles earlier—but hadn’t spared a single one for me. Hadn’t he always sworn he’d suffer before he’d let me suffer? My heart ached with sharp, pulling pains. I placed a hand on my belly and took deep breaths, trying to calm myself. After washing up, I curled into a small corner of the bed. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I remembered my anomaly scan appointment for tomorrow. I pushed Liam hard twice, but he didn’t react, only mumbled something, rolled over, and continued sleeping. Unable to take it anymore, I slapped him across the face. “Liam! You used my card to pay that tramp, what about my prenatal checkup tomorrow?!” He suddenly threw off the covers and sat up, glaring at me and roaring. “Figure it out yourself! All you ever talk about is money, money, money! If you need money, you figure it out!” “You’re just a gold-digger, and you’re calling that hardworking woman names? You’re the pathetic one!” Me, a gold-digger? I broke ties with my family to be with him! I gave up my career as a resident physician to become a registered nurse, and now I don’t even have money for my prenatal checkup, and somehow it’s my fault? “Get out! I don’t want to see you!” I screamed, my voice hoarse. He only raised an eyebrow, a mocking look on his face. “If anyone’s getting out, it’s you. Don’t you dare forget who actually paid the rent this month!” “You…” A sudden, intense pain shot through my stomach. I clutched my belly, gasping for air. Instinctively reaching out for help, my hand trembled, but then I heard Liam scoff. “Faking it again, huh? You loved playing the victim when we were dating. Looks like old habits die hard, even now.” Then he pulled the covers over his head and went back to sleep.
My heart sank. I could only sit on the bed, groaning in pain, waiting for the agony to subside. “Are you serious? You’re still faking it?” He sat up again, looking annoyed. But when he saw my cold sweat and my body trembling, his expression changed. “What’s wrong with you? Let’s go, I’ll take you to the hospital. This is my first kid, and I’m not risking bad luck by losing it!” He bent over, and the jacket from his suit slid off the bed and fell to the floor. A stack of white papers spilled out. The word “Contract” was clearly visible. What contract? Alarm bells went off in my head. Along with Liam’s startled cry, I quickly reached out and snatched them up. The title boldly proclaimed: Contract for the Acquisition of a Fried Chicken Restaurant Chain. Party A: Liam Smith. Party B: Tiffany Jones. Liam snatched the contract from my hands, his face frantic, his words tumbling out incoherently. “Chloe, I didn’t mean to pretend to be poor. I was just testing if your love for me was true.” “I’ll transfer the money to you right now.” “Your PayPal account has received $10,000.” Ten thousand? I scoffed, turning my face away. To think that our marriage, which meant more than anything to me, was just a game in Liam’s eyes. I was nothing but a fool! Seeing I didn’t react, Liam suddenly dropped to his knees with a thud and began to hit his head on the floor, begging. Again and again, and soon his forehead was streaked with blood. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I’ll give you my debit card right away.” He’d never cried in front of me before, but now tears streamed down his face, and he was sobbing like a child. “Will you come with me for my prenatal checkup tomorrow?” My father would definitely check the results of my checkup. He wouldn’t be at ease if I went alone. Liam’s face clouded over again, and he scratched his head. “But tomorrow I have a very important company meeting.” Furious, I threw a pillow hard at him, and he just gave a silly laugh. I lay down, ignoring him, trying to sleep, but he insisted on pressing close to me. He plastered on that familiar, shamelessly eager-to-please expression, just like when we first got married. Unfortunately, we could never go back. Clutching my swollen belly, I walked alone down the corridor of the obstetrics and gynecology department. Everywhere I looked, there were couples. From time to time, people would look at me and sigh. “How pitiful, so far along in her pregnancy and alone at the hospital.” “Yeah, her husband is so irresponsible. He probably won’t take care of her after the baby is born either.” Their whispers felt like daggers in my back, and I quickened my pace. In the office, Dr. Davis, the head of obstetrics and gynecology, praised me while performing my ultrasound. “The baby is very healthy.” Seeing me keep my head down and say nothing, he added: “Your dad still cares about you. He knew you were coming today and specifically asked me to be here to look after you.” “Really?” My voice caught in my throat. I had wronged my father, hurting him for a scumbag. But I was also so confused. After all, the baby hadn’t been born yet, and Liam had promised to change. “By the way, what’s your husband’s name? Why isn’t he here today?” I gave an awkward laugh. “He has business at work. His name is Liam Smith.” Dr. Davis suddenly fell silent, unmoving, frowning in thought. My heart skipped a beat. “What’s wrong, Dr. Davis? Is there something wrong with the baby?” “Oh! I just remembered, there was another pregnant woman whose husband had the same name earlier.” “That couple was so sweet. The husband even spent a fortune to book a luxury VIP suite at the hospital for his wife.” I froze, a dreadful premonition rising within me. After asking for the room number, I politely but firmly refused Dr. Davis’s offer to accompany me. I had to go alone. By the time I reached the hospital room door, I could barely stand, steadying myself by gripping the doorknob. What if it wasn’t him? Maybe it was just a coincidence. There are so many people with the same name in the world. I quietly pushed the door open a crack. The moment I saw the familiar figures inside, I collapsed to the floor. There, intimately close on the hospital bed, were Liam and Tiffany. Liam rushed over in a panic to help me up, but I violently shook off his hand. “Get lost! You’re disgusting!” With that, I stumbled to my feet and ran toward the Dean’s office. Tears streamed down my face. By the time I saw my father, I was sobbing uncontrollably, throwing myself into his arms with overwhelming grief. “Dad, I’m so sorry, I was wrong! I want a divorce!”
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