Chapter 1

When I was four months pregnant, I wanted to turn the spare room into a nursery.

James was silent for a long time before finally saying, "That room can't be touched."

That was the room his first love had lived in before she went abroad.

There was a single bed, an old desk lamp, and Polaroids she'd left on the wall years ago.

Even after three years of marriage, I'd never set foot in there.

He said it was something he wanted to hold onto for a friend, and told me not to be so narrow-minded.

But our baby was about to be born.

I stood at the doorway, holding my prenatal checkup report, and asked him, "Where is the baby going to sleep?"

He glanced at his phone. "Just put a crib in the master bedroom. The baby is tiny, and it won't take up much space."

The baby hardly took up any space, and I barely did, either.

All these years, the person who took up the most room in this house was someone who never returned.

And then, she actually came back.

She'd gotten divorced, standing at the door with her luggage, her eyes red as she called out to him, "James, I have nowhere else to go."

James immediately opened that room, his movements so practiced, as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

I stood in the living room, still holding the moon lamp I'd bought for the baby.

She glanced at my baby bump and murmured, "I'll stay for a few days, hope that's okay."

James took her suitcase and shot me a look. "You're a bit unstable right now. Don't freak her out."

Didn't freak her out.

I lowered my gaze to my belly.

The baby gave a little kick inside.

It felt like the baby was telling me it's time to wake up.

That night, I returned the moon lamp.

The customer service asked for the reason.

I thought for a moment, then typed in some words: Not enough space.

*****

Just as I submitted the return request, James walked in.

He was carrying two bags of medicine. He put one in the cabinet by the door and took the other straight to the old room.

Emily coughed softly from inside, her voice barely audible. "Sorry to bother you, James."

"It's no trouble," James replied softly. "I've sorted the medicine for morning and night. Make sure you take them as I've arranged, and don't mix them up."

I sat on the couch, my phone screen still glowing.

The customer service messaged me: [Hey there, if the moon lamp isn't faulty, you'll need to cover the shipping.]

I stared at the message for a few seconds, then typed: [Okay.]

When James came out, he finally noticed the prenatal checkup report on the coffee table.

"You went for your checkup today?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

He looked it over and put it back. "What did the doctor say?"

"The baby is a bit small. The doctor told me to take it easy."

"Then don't worry about the nursery," he said, unbuttoning his cuffs. "Just put a crib in the master bedroom. Once Em finds a place, we'll figure out that room."

Once Em found somewhere to live.

It felt like he was setting a timer on me.

But I knew James too well.

Whenever he said "we'll figure out," there never was a later.

I asked, "How long is she planning to stay?"

James frowned, "She got divorced. She's not in a good place. Don't make it look like you want her gone."

Something stirred in the old room.

Emily came out, draped in my gray cashmere blanket.

James gave it to me for my birthday last winter.

He never cared about gifts. His assistant picked them out, and he handed them over.

Still, I kept using it.

Emily clutched the edge of the blanket, her eyes red. "Am I being a bother? Should I head to a hotel tonight?"

James shot me a look right away.

His eyes were cold.

But it was as if he'd already decided I was the villain.

I stood up, slipped the prenatal report into my purse, and said, "No, it's fine. Stay as long as you need."

Emily bit her lip. "Please don't be upset. I'm really staying here for a little while."

I smiled, "Yeah, temporary."

James's frown eased. "See? She's not being unreasonable."

I looked at him.

So, to him, being reasonable meant handing over what was mine.

I gave up my blanket and my room.

Even my unborn child had to make way.

That night, after my shower, I heard James speaking softly outside the old room.

"Don't be afraid. I've always kept this place for you," he said.

"James, I thought you'd have gotten rid of all your stuff by now," Emily said.

"No, I didn't," he replied. "I haven't touched a single thing you left behind." He paused.

I stood at the end of the hallway, with my hand on my belly.

The baby gave a little kick.

It was a gentle nudge.

It felt like the baby was asking, "Mom, where did our stuff go?"

I looked down at my palm.

There was no answer.

The door opened, and James's expression froze when he saw me. "What are you doing here?"

"Just getting some water," I said.

He glanced at my empty hands. "The kitchen is over there."

I nodded. "I must have taken a wrong turn."

I must have taken a wrong turn.

For three years of marriage, it felt like I'd always been on the wrong track.

I turned around and headed back to the bedroom, and as I passed the entryway, my phone lit up again.

The customer service sent me the return address.

I put the moon lamp back in the box, kept wrapping tape around it, over and over.

When I finally sealed the box, James was leaning against the doorframe, watching me. "Didn't you really like this?"

I put the scissors back in the drawer. "I don't like it anymore."

He didn't say anything.

From the old room, Emily called out, "James, the lamp is not working."

James turned and went in right away.

I stood in the living room, holding the box.

I heard him say from inside, "Let me check. Maybe it's a loose connection."

He'd fixed that old lamp countless times.

But he never bothered to ask why I was sending my moon lamp back.