Chapter 2

He was about to become a father.

And I was completely in the dark.

I unlocked my phone and scrolled back to my texts with my best friend, Harper, from three months ago.

I had told Harper back then that I was planning on having a baby next year. I had made peace with it; I genuinely wanted to give Ethan a child.

Looking back now, it was a sick joke.

My phone buzzed.

A text from Ethan popped up.

[Babe, is everything sorted out?]

I stared at the screen, my knuckles turning white.

He was testing the waters.

He didn't give a damn about the car. He only cared whether I had watched that dashcam footage.

[All done.]

I texted back.

[Great. No overtime for me tonight, heading home now!]

I stared at the words *no overtime*.

Suddenly, memories of the past several months flashed through my mind. He had stayed late almost every single night.

He always blamed tight project deadlines and demanding bosses.

I never doubted him for a second.

Because every time he stayed late, he’d send me a live location tag right from his office building.

Now I knew why. He was spending that time driving her home.

I checked his phone every week and never found anything suspicious.

Because he scrubbed every text, erased every trace.

Ruthlessly efficient.

Three months ago, I noticed newborn clothes in his Amazon search history.

I casually asked him about it at the time: "Thinking about babies?"

He laughed it off, claiming a coworker had just had a baby and he was looking for a shower gift.

I didn't press further.

Now I remembered: those clothes were newborn sizes.

It wasn't a baby shower gift. It was bought for his own child.

I started the engine and drove out of the underground garage.

Night had fully fallen outside. The streetlights flickered on, casting a harsh glare across the asphalt.

I rolled down the window. The cool breeze whipped against my face.

My head grew clearer and colder with every passing second.

When I got home, Ethan was already there.

He was in the kitchen wearing an apron, stirring a pot of soup bubbling on the stove.

On the living room coffee table sat a dessert box—tiramisu from my favorite bakery downtown.

That bakery was a thirty-minute detour from his office.

I used to think of it as a gesture of deep love.

Now, all I could wonder was whether he treated that other woman the exact same way.

Or perhaps he had bought mine on his way back from dropping her off.

"You're back?"

Ethan poked his head out of the kitchen with a warm smile.

"Come here, let me look at you. Did you get hurt?"

He wiped his hands on a towel and walked over, scanning me up and down until his eyes caught my elbow.

"Is that a bruise?"

Frowning, he took my arm to examine it closely.

It was just a tiny purple mark. I hadn't even noticed it myself.

"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt."

I pulled my arm back.

Ethan didn't seem to notice my stiffness. He turned around, poured me a glass of warm water, and set it on the table.

"Be extra careful backing up next time. If you ever feel unsure, just call me. I'll park it for you."

He sat down next to me, casually resting his arm along the back of the sofa behind my shoulders.

"Babe, I was thinking... we haven't gone on a trip in a while."

His voice was gentle and sweet.

"Where do you want to go? Beach resort or a cabin in the mountains? I can take a few days off and take you away to unwind."

I looked at his face. A cold voice whispered in my head.

He was acting too normal.

Worrying over a tiny bruise, buying my favorite dessert, making soup, planning a vacation.

How could a cheating man act so flawlessly normal?

Unless, in his mind, he didn't believe he was doing anything wrong at all.

"What's wrong, babe?"