Chapter 1

Edward Shaw had a rule: he never used anything that had been used by someone else.

Toothbrush cups had to be kept separate, towels couldn't be mixed, and if I poured him a glass of water, he'd pour himself a new one.

I got it. He was a neat freak, and I believed that he didn't have anything against me.

When I was eight months pregnant, we had a team dinner.

I made a point to use the serving fork to pick up a piece of steak for him.

Edward glanced at it, smiled, and pushed it away. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'll get it myself."

A colleague jumped in to smooth things over. "Don't take it to heart, Claire. Mr. Shaw is always like this."

I nodded, already used to it.

When dessert was served, I went to the restroom.

When I came back, the new planner, Sophia Reed, from his department was sitting in my seat.

She held up a spoon, feeding him tiramisu, and smiled, "Edward, try this. It's way better than the last place."

He took a bite, casually grabbed a napkin, and wiped the cream from the corner of her mouth.

Everyone at the table went silent for a couple of seconds.

Someone muttered, "Guess Mr. Shaw's neat freak thing only applies to certain people, huh?"

He looked up and saw me standing by the table; his expression froze for a second.

Then he said something I'd heard a thousand times before. "There are a lot of people here. Don't make a fuss."

I glanced down at my pregnant belly.

Suddenly, I realized that not once in these eight months had I ever tasted a single drop of water poured by him.

I didn't cause a scene. I simply slipped off my wedding ring and placed it on the table.

From this moment on, his rules were no longer my concern.

*****

Halfway back, Edward finally noticed my bare ring finger.

He hit the brakes, his voice flat. "Where's your ring?"

"I left it at the restaurant," I said.

"You didn't leave it. You took it off on purpose."

I rested my hand on my lower back, saying nothing.

He stared at me for a few seconds, then started the car again. "Claire, Sophia joined the team, and she is still getting to know everyone. She is outgoing and doesn't care about these things, so don't overthink it."

"I'm not overthinking it," I replied.

"Then why did you take off your ring?"

"My hand is swollen, and it's uncomfortable to wear."

That was a perfectly respectable excuse.

Edward stayed silent.

When we got home, he went straight to the bathroom.

The water ran for three minutes straight.

Whenever he touched a doorknob or elevator button while we were out, he'd wash his hands the second he got home.

I stood in the entryway, watching him scrub every finger with soap, then wipe his phone down twice with disinfectant wipes. But the spoon Sophia fed him with? He didn't care at all.

I took off my coat and slowly walked toward the bedroom.

Edward followed me in and placed the wedding ring the restaurant manager had returned on the dresser.

There was a tissue under the ring.

"I got it back. Put it on tomorrow morning," he said.

I looked at the tissue. "Did you touch it?"

His expression soured. "Do you have to be so snarky?"

"I'm asking."

"The waiter found it. No telling how many people touched it, so I had my assistant disinfect it."

I suddenly laughed.

Six years of marriage, and he never drank from my cup, never ate anything I served him, and after we slept together, he'd jump out of bed and head straight for the shower.

He always said it was his condition.

I kept telling myself not to take it out on him since he was sick. But it turned out that his so-called condition played favorites.

Edward was grabbing his pajamas when his phone suddenly rang.

Sophia's voice came through the speaker. "Edward, did you grab the wrong scarf? The black one is mine, and I need it for tomorrow."

Edward glanced over at the couch.

Underneath my gray cashmere scarf was a black one.

"I've got it," he said.

"What am I supposed to do? My bus is at seven tomorrow morning, and my place is way out there," Sophia said, before pausing, then adding with a laugh. "Never mind, I'll deal with it. You should stay with Claire.

"She seems a little down tonight, and don't let us get into another fight because of me."

Edward was already grabbing his car keys.

"You're going now?" I asked.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes," he said.

"The doctor said I might have Braxton Hicks contractions tonight."

"It's a scarf. It won't take long."

He walked to the door, then turned back to look at me. "Don't always use your pregnancy as a reason for everyone to cater to you. Sophia needs that scarf tomorrow morning."

After the door closed, I sat down on the edge of the bed.

Ten minutes later, my lower abdomen started to tighten.

I breathed slowly, like the doctor taught me, and reached for the water on the nightstand, but my grip faltered.

The glass crashed to the floor. Shards scattered everywhere.

I didn't dare bend down, so I had no choice but to call Edward.

The first call went unanswered.

He hung up on me on the second call.

When the third call finally connected, I could hear Sophia laughing in the background.

"Edward, I told you these cakes are amazing. Come on, try one," she said.

Edward asked me, "What's wrong?"

"My stomach is tightening up," I said.

"Just stay put. I'll be right back."

I murmured a soft "okay."

But on the other end, Sophia let out a little gasp. "I think I ate too much, and my stomach hurts. Edward, hurry up and take me home."

Edward paused for a couple of seconds. "Claire, lie down on the bed. I'll drop her off first."

Then he hung up.

Forty minutes later, the door finally opened.

I was sitting in the middle of a mess of broken glass, a small puddle of water spreading out beneath me.

Edward's footsteps came to an abrupt halt. "Claire, did your water break?"