Chapter 2

The room was quiet.

James lay in bed, his face still covered in scrapes, a ventilator helping him breathe, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

I sat down beside him, setting the phone on my lap.

I kept scrolling.

Besides the chat with the heart emoji, there was also a group chat.

The group was called "The Three of Us."

There were three people in it: James, that woman, and someone named "Lucas Carter."

Lucas must be the little boy.

I opened the group chat history.

The latest message was from last night.

Lucas sent a voice message. I hesitated for a moment, but hit play.

In it, Lucas said, "Dad, I got a perfect score on my math test today. When are you coming home? I want to show you my paper."

His voice was so childlike and excited.

James replied, [Dad will be back tomorrow, sweetheart. You're awesome!]

The woman replied, [You're amazing, Lucas! Mom will treat you to McDonald's.]

Lucas sent another voice message: "I want a Big Mac."

James sent a big laugh emoji. [Alright, I'll take you for one when I get back.]

I couldn't take my eyes off that word: Dad.

James had been playing the role of "Dad" for seven years.

And me? I never even got to be a mom.

I thought back to 2017.

After the miscarriage, the doctor told me my body wasn't strong, and getting pregnant again would be hard.

I cried for a long time.

James said over the phone, "It's okay. We'll try again later."

We kept trying for two more years, but nothing happened.

I asked him, "Should we try IVF?"

He said, "No rush. Let's go with the flow."

"I want a child."

"We'll have one someday. Just wait a little longer."

And I waited. For seven years.

Now I finally understood. He wasn't waiting.

He didn't need to wait at all.

He already had a child, a seven-year-old son. A son who called him "Dad," scored a perfect 100 on his math test, and wanted a Big Mac.

I left the group chat and kept scrolling.

There were a few other chats, but with acquaintances, nobody that really mattered.

I opened up the photo album.

The album was packed with photos.

They were all pictures of him, that woman, and the kid together.

In the background were amusement parks, the beach, restaurants, and their home.

In every single one, they were all smiles, looking like the perfect happy family.

One photo showed them standing in front of a door.

In the background, there was a door with an apartment number on it.

I zoomed in for a closer look.

It listed the neighborhood, building, unit, and apartment number.

An actual address.

I made a note of the address and kept scrolling.

I scrolled to a photo of a property deed.

The name on it was that woman's.

1350 square feet. Pretty spacious.

It was bought in 2019.

I closed my eyes.

That year, James and I were still paying off our mortgage, 8000 dollars every month.

I remember how tight things were that year, since the mortgage rate went up and we had to cough up an extra 500 dollars every month.

James said, "Honey, let's cut back and put all our money toward the mortgage."

I said, "Okay."

After that, I handed over my whole paycheck every month, not a single dollar left for myself.

I thought we were in this together, fighting to pay off our home.

Turned out, he was buying a 1350-square-feet home for someone else.

He bought it outright.

I kept flipping through the deed photos until I spotted the price tag: 2.67 million dollars.

I went back to the transaction history.

From 2017 to 2024, seven years in total.

I did the math. He'd sent over about 1.4 million dollars in total.

1.4 million dollars.

Suddenly, something hit me.

When James and I first got married, my mom gave us 50 thousand dollars as a wedding gift to help us buy a house.

I handed that 50 thousand dollars over to James.

After that, I gave him every paycheck I made for ten years.

I did the math. My salary started at 2000 dollars right out of college, and now it was 5000 dollars.

All together, that was about 400 million dollars over ten years.

Altogether, that was 450 million dollars I'd poured into this family in ten years.

Ten years of chores, laundry, and cooking every meal.

A miscarriage.

And I gave up two promotions because he said, "Someone has to look after the house."

I gave him the best ten years of my life.

And what did I get for all that?

An address of a building.

A deed for a 128-square-meter apartment.

A seven-year-old son.

A bunch of transaction records.

And a phone I'd never even seen until now.

I sat by the bed, staring at the man lying there.

His face was so peaceful, like he was sleeping.

If it hadn't been for this phone, I might never have known.

I would've kept living my life, paying off the mortgage, scrimping and saving, still waiting for a child that would "come someday."

I would've kept living in the dark, playing the fool.

I heard footsteps at the door.

I looked up. It was my in-laws.

"Emily!" My mother-in-law, Amy Carter, rushed over, her face full of worry. "How's James?"

"He's out of danger," I replied.

"Oh, thank God." She let out a long sigh, then walked over to the bed, staring at James. "He really gave me a scare."

My father-in-law, Robert Carter, stood nearby, looking just as worried.

I looked at both of them and suddenly spoke up, "Robert, Amy."

"What?" they asked.

"Do you know?"

Amy froze for a second. "Know what?"

I held up the phone, turning the screen toward them.

"This," I said.

Amy's face changed in an instant.

I saw it clearly.

For a split second, her eyes darted away, trying to avoid mine.

My father-in-law froze too, but quickly turned his head, pretending to check on James.

I laughed.

"You both knew," I said.

The room was dead silent for a few seconds.

Amy was the first to break the silence. "E-Emily, what are you talking about?"

"Amy," I said, setting the phone down. "Drop the act."

"What act?"

"Who is she?"

Amy clammed up.

"That kid is seven, isn't he?" I pushed.

She still kept her mouth shut.

"The year I lost the baby, James said he was on a business trip and couldn't get away. Was he over there with her?" I asked.

Amy took a shaky breath, then suddenly burst into tears.

"Emily, please, listen to me. It's not what you think," she sobbed.

"Then what is it?" I demanded.

"James had no choice."

"No choice?" I laughed. "Seven years and 1.4 million dollars. No choice, huh?"

Amy froze. "How how do you know all this?"

"His phone," I said, waving the black Samsung. "The real phone your son used."

Her face drained of all color.

Robert had been silent all this time, but now he finally spoke.

"Emily, since you already know, I won't keep it from you," he said.

Amy panicked. "Dear, you—"

Robert waved her off. "No use hiding it now."

He looked at me and sighed. "Her name is Silvia Lane. She was James's college classmate. They were together in college, but split up after they graduated."

"December 12, 2009," I said. "That's the day they started dating, right?"

Robert looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"It's his phone password," I replied.

He was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. That's when they started dating in college."

"And then what happened?" I asked.

"After college, Silvia moved to Divian City, James stayed here, so they broke up. Then James met you and got married," he explained.

"So how did she show up again?" I pressed.

Robert stayed silent.

Amy wiped her tears and said, "Silvia came back in 2016, said she couldn't make it in Divian City and wanted to start over here. She looked up James to reminisce, and then..."

"And then they got back together?" I asked.

She stayed quiet.

I pressed on, "When did you find out?"

Amy kept her head down, silent.

Robert sighed. "In 2018, when the baby was born."

"That was the year I lost my baby," I said.

Robert stayed silent.

"Did you know that while she was having her baby, I was lying alone in the hospital?" I asked.

Robert still didn't say a word.

"Did you know that when he said he was on a business trip and couldn't leave, he was actually with her, helping her through postpartum recovery?" I pressed.

There was silence.

I laughed.

"Six years. You hid this from me for six years," I said.

Amy sobbed even harder. "Emily, we did it for the sake of this family. You and James were so close, we were afraid if we told you, you'd get divorced."

"Close?" I shot her a look. "You call this close?"

She kept crying, unable to say a word.

Robert let out a heavy sigh. "Emily, we know James messed up. But Silvia already had a child, and you don't have any children..."

"So what?" I shot back.

"So can't you be a little more forgiving?" he said.

I froze.

I chewed over those words in my head.

Be a little more forgiving.

"You want me to be a little more forgiving?" I repeated.

"Emily, I know this isn't fair to you, but—" he started.

"Do you have any idea what these ten years have been like for me?" I cut him off.

Robert went silent.

"Every month, I handed over my whole paycheck, didn't keep a single dollar for myself. I haven't bought a single thing over 60 bucks in ten years. When I miscarried, I went to the hospital alone. I gave up two promotions for this family," I said.

I spoke each word calmly.

"I thought I was giving everything for us. I thought James was fighting for us. I thought we were in it together," I said. "And what did I get in return?

"All my money, all my best years, all my ten years, just handed over to another woman.

"And you want me to be a little more forgiving?"

Amy sobbed, "Emily, I know we were wrong, but the child was James's own flesh and blood—"

"And what about me?" I cut her off. "Wasn't the baby I lost his flesh and blood too?"

She froze, stunned.

I said, "Back in 2017, I was three months pregnant and miscarried. That was your son's child too.

"When I lost that baby, you said, 'You'll have a child later.

"Now I get it. 'You'll have a child later' means he already has a son anyway."

I stood up and picked up the phone.

"I'm not going to be generous," I said.

"Emily—" Amy called out.

"I'm going to make him pay back every single thing he owed me from these ten years," I said.

I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me.

Amy was still crying in the hallway.

I didn't look back.