1 My wife, Serena, had sworn for fifteen years that she was infertile. Then, out of the blue, she was pregnant. I dug deeper, and what I found shattered my world: she had secretly rekindled things with her first love, Marcus, and her own mother was living with him. When the truth exploded, I lost control, clashing with Serena in a raw, desperate argument. Everyone around us chimed in, a chorus of misplaced advice. "You two have been married for years, Ethan. This child might still be yours. And even if it isn't, Serena finally has a chance to be a mother. You can't possibly deny her that right, can you?" I looked at Serena, despair clouding my vision. Though middle-aged, she remained impeccably preserved, a testament to her meticulous care. "You can carry the child to term. If it's mine, we keep it. If not, you leave, with the child and with him." It was the furthest I could concede, a fragile olive branch extended from the depths of my broken heart. Serena's expression remained unnervingly placid as she turned to leave. For a fleeting moment, I thought she had agreed. But then, at the threshold, she paused. "Marcus has been my rock for years. I can't just cast him aside." Her voice, calm as a lake, cut me to the bone. "If you can't accept that, then Marcus and I will simply build a new life elsewhere." A dull ache pulsed through my chest. I lowered my gaze, abandoning all hope of mending what was irrevocably shattered between us. "Then let's get divorced." … My words plunged the already strained atmosphere into an icy silence. Serena dropped the doorknob, disbelief etched on her face as she spun to face me. "Ethan Vance… don't be ridiculous. Even if you're trying to scare me, I won't send Marcus away." Her brows furrowed, as if I’d uttered the most heinous blasphemy. "Ethan, Serena’s right," an aunt chimed in. "You two have been married for so long. Everyone makes mistakes. Spouses are one; what can't be resolved through discussion?" A friend added, "Don't blame Serena. All these years, she’s told everyone it was her problem. Now that she's pregnant, it proves the problem was with you. Serena sacrificed fifteen years. Just forgive her this once." Another relative pressed, "She just wants a child. It's not like she doesn't love you." Family and friends, a Greek chorus of judgment, clamored around us. Serena stood tall behind them, the very picture of an innocent victim. "You think so too?" I asked, my lips trembling as I looked at Serena. Outsiders might be oblivious, but she knew the truth, didn't she? For fifteen years, we’d undergone annual check-ups. She even collected the reports. My health had always been perfect. Except for last year… but even if I had issues, Serena had no right to let me bear such slander. And I knew, deep down, there was nothing wrong with me. "Ethan Vance, what's the point of dwelling on this now? We're not children anymore." Her voice, surprisingly steady, sliced through my swirling thoughts. "Why can't you be more like Marcus? All these years, he’s never asked for anything, even repeatedly urged me to come home. All he ever wanted was to be by my side. What fault does he have?" "He's been there for me, silently, for so long. And now you expect me to throw him away? I can't. He's the father of my child. I can't be that cruel." With that, Serena opened the door and walked out. The gawking relatives, sensing their cue, discreetly followed. I desperately dug my nails into my palms, the night suddenly feeling colder than ever before. Fifteen years ago, I fell for Serena the moment I saw her at a blind date. She was beautiful and kind. I thought I'd struck gold; how could someone so extraordinary need a blind date? When we discussed marriage, Serena confessed, holding up a medical report, that she couldn't have children. If I couldn't accept it, she understood. My parents were vehemently against it then, insisting the Vance name couldn't end. But I loved Serena. I even declared I’d get a vasectomy if she was uncomfortable. Against all odds, we walked down the aisle. For fifteen years, I believed we were happy, despite no children, despite my parents' disapproval. But now, I understood. That happiness was a fragile illusion, a bubble poised to burst, leaving behind only an endless void of sorrow. What was even more infuriating was my mother-in-law, Eleanor. A few years back, to ease her mind, I had proactively told her I’d had a vasectomy, promising Serena would never suffer. Eleanor had sworn to treat me like her own son then. Yet, five years ago, she moved out, claiming she needed to care for Serena’s affair partner. A sharp pang gripped my heart. Lost and distraught, I drifted to the balcony and sat there, numb, through the long, cold night. Serena didn’t return until the next morning. She greeted me with an unnerving calmness. "Ethan Vance, have you thought it through? Marcus never intended to ruin our marriage. He just wants to join our family." Her words, delivered with a bewildering nonchalance, twisted the knife deeper. "We have so many years of shared history. I don't want to make things hard for you, and I don't want to see you upset. Just try to understand. If you agree, I'll bring Marcus home tomorrow. I promise, he won't compete with you for your place." I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, reading her message. In her eyes, I was the unreasonable one? My refusal to welcome Marcus into our home meant I wasn’t understanding? "Serena Thorne, what do you take me for? You’re pregnant with another man’s child, and you expect me not only to accept the baby but to live with your lover? To see him every day? How can you possibly ask me to endure that? Have you no conscience left?!" I screamed, my voice raw, desperate to awaken a flicker of remorse in her. She remained silent for a long moment, then, finally, a whisper of guilt entered her tone. "I'm sorry, Ethan. But what’s done is done. We just have to learn to accept it. I told you when we married…" "…I had a first love I couldn't let go of. Please, I'm begging you, just for my sake, try to accept Marcus. I can give you time." The softest voice, delivering the most disgusting words. It felt like I was seeing Serena’s true face for the very first time. Calmly, I found a lawyer. "Draft a divorce agreement for me. I don't want anything. I just want out." Every single second I spent in that house felt like a suffocating nausea. If I could just be free, I’d give up everything. Three days later, the lawyer had prepared the complete divorce agreement. Serena still hadn't returned. This was her tactic, her way of threatening me: if I didn't agree, she wouldn't come home. I didn’t care. I spent my days aimlessly scrolling through videos. Eleanor, seeing how things had escalated, decided to flood my phone with photos and videos of Serena and Marcus together. From her perspective, her daughter, who had never cooked a day in her life, was now lovingly preparing meals for her beloved man. Marcus, too, was incredibly considerate, always finishing every bite. I could see it clearly: in every photo, every video, Serena’s smile was genuine. She was willing to cater to him, all because of love. "See? Serena never loved you. She never wanted to get pregnant because she said she would only ever have Marcus's child." "I don't understand why you're making such a fuss. The one who isn't loved is the third party. Serena not kicking you out is a huge blessing, and yet you can't even tolerate Marcus." Paragraphs of text and photos flooded my screen. I tapped my phone, ruthlessly tearing down Eleanor’s argument. "No matter how little I'm loved, the marriage certificate still bears my name in Serena's spouse column. She loves him so much, but the child she’ll bear will still be illegitimate, with no legal standing." The moment I sent it, Eleanor fired back a sixty-second voice message. It was the software’s limit, and I could almost hear her enraged screams. I didn't want to listen to her filthy accusations. Just as I was about to ignore it, a video call popped up. I answered. Eleanor’s enraged voice blared through the speaker. "Ethan Vance! No matter how heartbroken you are, you have no right to slander a child like this! What? You want my grandchild to be cursed before they're even born? How can you be so vicious? I'm telling you, absolutely not." She was entirely focused on protecting the unborn child. I bit back my tears, looking at her contorted face. How could a person change so drastically? It was she who, not long ago, had kindly told me, "Ethan, we're sorry. Don't worry, to me, you're like my own son, Serena doesn't even compare." How long had it been? She had changed, and Serena had changed too. It was as if I was the guilty one. 2 Time stretched on, moment by agonizing moment. I hung up the phone and broke down crying on the balcony. When Serena returned, my eyes were bloodshot, staring blankly out the window. She seemed to have expected it. She walked onto the balcony and hugged me tightly. The warmth, mixed with the cold air, made me shiver. I lowered my gaze. Serena said nothing, simply burying her face in my chest. She was silently telling me she was there, urging me not to give up hope. In the past, when I faced difficulties at work, we would hold each other tightly on that very balcony. The vast city offered no refuge, and my parents were often unyielding in their understanding. In my darkest moments, I truly wanted to end it all. I always thought, Give up. Giving up is the best choice, for both Serena and me. Serena sensed my despair. Her voice, choked with tears, softly asked, "Ethan, are you regretting it? Do you not want me anymore?" Her tears soaked my chest. I hugged her back, my swirling thoughts settling into focus. "Serena, I'm sorry. I was just so overwhelmed. Releasing some emotion. I could never abandon you. I love you. I will never divorce you, not in this lifetime." The cicadas of summer bore witness to my vow, and a bitter heart was infused with a fragile hope. It was that day I asked Serena. "Serena, can we go to the doctor? I know how much you want a child." "Let's get ourselves checked. See if there's any hope. If not, we can always adopt." I saw new blood as the hope for our family. Serena, however, was vehemently against it. She didn't want her body to change, nor did she want to endure the pain of childbirth. … "So why? With him, you're willing to have a child? Why did you lie to me?" I feigned ignorance, though my heart already knew the answer. Serena sighed, lingering before responding. In those brief minutes, my heart had already turned to ice. "Ethan, I'll explain all of this to you later. Right now, I want to introduce you to someone." The door opened again. A nervous Marcus, dressed in smart casuals, extended his hands politely, a characteristic smile gracing his lips. "Hello, I'm Marcus Knight. I know you're hurting. Serena and I… we're deeply sorry for what we've done to you. But the child is innocent. I'm begging you, please, let my child stay. You can send me away if you want." He stated his demand stubbornly, his eyes filled with a desperate longing for Serena. Again and again, even before the child was born, they were so certain it was Marcus’s. Looking at myself, standing there, I felt like a pathetic clown. "Can you do that?" Marcus asked again, his gaze lingering on Serena's hand, which was still grasping mine. His sorrow wasn't feigned. When we married, I knew Serena had a first love. They had been deeply in love, but young and foolish, and separated due to work. I always considered it a thing of the past. Until today, witnessing the undeniable love in their eyes, I realized how utterly foolish I had been. "Ethan, Marcus's talking to you." Serena instinctively released my hand, leaning into Marcus's embrace. Their intimacy was so natural, as if rehearsed a thousand times. Tears welled in my eyes again, and I lifted my head, a chill spreading through me. "What if I say no?" I gritted out, the last ounce of my helplessness. Serena glared at me, displeased. "Ethan Vance, I'm telling you, not asking. Things are already like this. You're seriously going to pick a fight with a pregnant woman?" 3 She squared her shoulders, pushing out her barely-there bump. Marcus, ever protective, anxiously pulled her into his arms. "Serena, don't get upset. Ethan is just having trouble accepting it right now. You're carrying Markus Jr., don't let this stress you out and affect the baby." Markus Jr. The name hammered into my brain, obliterating all past hopes. My mind reeled. A crashing sound echoed in my skull as every belief I held crumbled. That name… The inspiration for it came from a post I’d seen by a father online. He’d named his child ‘Mu Xin,’ meaning ‘admiring his wife.’ I found it incredibly romantic. I’d wistfully told Serena, "You know, if we ever have a child, should we name them ‘Lyric’ or ‘Grace’? Or maybe even take your last name, and we could call them ‘Willow’s Blessing.’" Hearing my words, Serena hadn't been pleased. She thought I was criticizing her inability to conceive. In reality, she was probably laughing at me inside, wondering who would ever bear my child. "Serena, is the child really named Markus Jr.?" I stared at her, disbelief coloring my voice. She avoided my gaze, masking her discomfort with a few coughs. "Ethan Vance, don't make something out of nothing. What's wrong with that name? This is my child, a life I'll carry for nine months. Can't I decide his name?" She blustered, trying to cover her guilt, fearing I'd expose her. Marcus wasn't foolish, but he was smarter than that—he knew when to advance and when to retreat. "Ethan, if you're unhappy, the child can be named… anything. I don’t mind. This is Serena’s precious child, born from her own risk. If she wishes it, I can leave. I only ask that you treat the child as your own." He said, casting a longing glance at Serena's belly before turning to walk away. His performance completely erased the last shred of guilt Serena felt towards me. She angrily pointed to everything in the house, comforting Marcus. "Marcus, I love you. I want to have a child with our blood. Don't listen to Ethan. Everything in this house, under the marriage contract, is in my name. If he doesn't like it, he's the one who has to leave. He has no right to kick you out." She was brazenly enjoying everything I had earned, openly bringing her lover home, simply because, before our marriage, I had signed everything over to her as a gesture of security. I had thought of her in every way, and in the end, those considerations became daggers, stabbing me without hesitation. "Serena, don't say that," Marcus murmured, his attempt at humility not quite convincing. As Serena held him back, he shot a smug look at me. I scoffed, suddenly finding this home, which had once given me warmth, utterly nauseating. No, this wasn't my home. This was their home. "Ethan, apologize to Marcus now, and I won't hold this against you. I know you really want children. After Markus Jr. is born, I can let him call you his godfather. If you treat him well, he can even call you Dad." "Don't be childish. We're not kids anymore, and I'm pregnant. I can't handle too much emotional stress." She was convinced that I loved her too much to divorce her. I lowered my head, a bitter smile twisting my lips, and picked up the divorce papers I had already prepared from the table. Fifteen years of marriage. Serena had been with me when I had nothing, enduring a lot of hardship. So, I was willing to compensate her, giving her half of my assets. "Take a look. If everything's in order, sign it." My heart gradually settled into a cold calm. The moment Serena signed, I could leave this place immediately. I didn't even need the divorce certificate right away. "I can wait until you give birth. This house, I’ll leave it to you both. Just sign."
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