Chapter 3
Andrew didn't come home for days—sulking or trying to spite me.
But every day, five minutes before my medicine time, he'd call to remind me.
He'd hang up before I could answer.
One day at the hospital picking up meds, I ran into Emma getting a prenatal checkup.
Her mom was with her. No happiness on her face. No excitement about the pregnancy.
I started to leave, then froze at what I heard.
"Your dad and I told you to end it, but you wouldn't listen. You already had a miscarriage for him three years ago, and now you want his baby? Are you insane?"
She pleaded desperately.
"Emma, please—listen to me. Get rid of this baby. I'll find you a good man. Just leave Andrew for good."
Emma bowed her head, stroking her flat stomach.
A faint, almost defiant smile played at her lips.
"Mom, three years ago, Andrew couldn't divorce his sick wife. That's why he made me lose the baby.
"But now, he proposed I give him a child."
I didn't stay to hear more.
I walked out, my steps unsteady.
The year I got sick, I was pregnant too.
But I had to end it.
I still remember that night—Andrew curled up like his world had collapsed.
But now I wondered: was it really our baby he was grieving?
On my way out, I ran into Andrew.
He must've rushed from work—his forehead was covered in sweat.
When he saw me, he looked guilty.
He started to raise his hand in greeting.
But since we were giving each other the silent treatment, he just turned away.
Then Emma walked up behind me.
She brushed past and hooked her arm through Andrew's, staking her claim.
Andrew looked uncomfortable, but he didn't shake her off.
He cleared his throat. "Soph, how are you feeling? I've been swamped with work—haven't had time to come to appointments with you."
"I'm good."
As I passed Andrew, I said, "Come home tonight. We need to talk."
Honestly, I'd always planned to leave Andrew.
When Emma first confronted me, I meant what I said about agreeing to leave him.
So why didn't I bring it up with Andrew?
Maybe I told myself I needed time—seven years of my life couldn't be packed up overnight.
But really, I was lying to myself.
I wanted to see what Andrew would do once he thought I'd accepted his double life.
Turns out, all those promises were just words. He never really saw me as his forever wife.
Once Andrew stopped hiding things, he barely came home anymore. He openly put her first and left me to fend for myself.
Like tonight—I'd made it clear he needed to come back.
But even after I'd packed everything, Andrew was still nowhere to be found.
The housekeeper woke from her nap to find me sitting on the living room couch, staring into space.
She glanced at me but didn't say anything, then headed back to her room.
After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed my phone and called Andrew.
His voice was rough with sleep.
In the background, I heard Emma's voice, playful and sweet.
"Who's calling at this hour?"
The housekeeper—someone I'd hired myself, who'd always taken my side—felt bad for me and spoke louder than usual.
"Mr. Bennett, did you forget your promise to Mrs. Bennett?
"She hasn't taken her medicine today because you didn't come home, and here you are, sleeping soundly."
Andrew snapped awake.
He fumbled for his pants, ready to bolt out of bed.
Of course, Emma wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Andrew, it's too late. Just stay here tonight."
She wouldn't let go.
But Andrew didn't hesitate. He left in a minute.
At two in the morning, the keypad lock beeped.
Andrew was home.