It was a torrential downpour. I was stuck in traffic, blocked by a rear-end collision up ahead. Just as I was about to make a U-turn and get out of there, I saw my husband, Phillip, step out of the front car. He held an umbrella over a woman, pulling her into his arms and comforting her in a soft, gentle voice. "I'm here. Don't worry." My breath caught in my throat. I remembered Phillip's apology to me just this afternoon. "My darling wife, something urgent came up at the office. I really can't make it back." He had been so full of guilt, promising me, "From now on, I will be with you for every single anniversary. I swear it!" The man who was swearing his undying loyalty this afternoon was now holding another woman, arguing with the driver of the other car. "You need to apologize to my wife, right now!" My hands trembled on the steering wheel as I picked up my phone and dialed Phillip's number. 1 I watched as Phillip pulled out his phone. The moment he saw my name on the screen, his expression shifted. The woman he was holding glanced at the phone, saw my contact name, and her eyes instantly reddened. She clutched the lapel of his coat. "Phillip," she whimpered, "you promised you'd be with me today." Her ankle was swollen. "My foot hurts so much." And then, I watched as Phillip hesitated for a few seconds before declining my call. A moment later, a text message appeared on my screen. [Honey, I'm still swamped.] [I'll call you back as soon as I'm done, okay?] I could see him staring at his phone, the pale white light reflecting off his anxious face. When I didn't reply, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and held the woman even tighter. Today was our seventh wedding anniversary. The restaurant we had booked called to check in. "Ms. Erwin?" "The cake your husband ordered for you has arrived. Shall we put it in the refrigerator for you?" The bakery that makes my favorite cake is all the way across town and notoriously hard to book, but every year, Phillip would place the order two months in advance. Halfway through our candlelit dinner, he’d bring it out and we'd make a promise for the year to come. "Yes, please," I said, my voice surprisingly calm. I watched as the tow truck hauled away the damaged cars. Phillip had settled things with the other driver, and the gridlocked traffic was finally starting to move. As I drove past him, I saw Phillip glance at his phone again, then put it away and look up. Our eyes met. In that instant, I saw his expression freeze. A second later, my phone rang again. It was Phillip. I didn't answer immediately. Just as he had let me wait, I let him wait, too. I let it ring and ring. When he called for the fifth time, I finally pressed the answer button. "Honey," he said, a barely concealed panic in his voice. "Are you at the restaurant yet?" He was testing me. "The restaurant just called to say the cake arrived," he continued, his tone laced with a practiced cheerfulness. "I really, really wanted to be there with you. If it wasn't for this project, I would have dropped everything to be by your side. You have to forgive me." Listening to his voice, a dense, sharp pain spread through my chest. Still, I said, "Okay." Phillip asked where I was. For a moment, I considered getting out of the car and confronting him right there. But I pushed the impulse down. "I'm right at the entrance," I told him. He let out a sigh of relief. "I've asked Mia to join me," I said, "so I have to go." Later, sitting across from me, my best friend Mia sighed wistfully. "Your Phillip really is a romantic. The flowers, the gifts, the cake—always right on time, every year." "I used to hate that son of a bitch," she said, taking a bite of her food. "But you have to admit, the bastard really pulled through and made something of himself." Mia had never approved of Phillip. In her eyes, he had married up. But love isn't about status. Now, watching even Mia sing his praises, I found it all so absurd. So absurd, in fact, that I actually laughed out loud. "Oh, the bastard pulled something, all right," I told her. "Phillip is cheating on me." 2 The fork and knife clattered to the floor. Mia’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide with disbelief. I repeated myself, my voice flat. "Phillip. Is cheating. On me." I pulled out the video I’d recorded and placed my phone in front of her. "So," I said, "I'm probably getting a divorce." It finally dawned on her that I wasn't joking. She slammed her fist on the table, her face contorted with rage. "Where is that bastard right now? Take me to him! I'm going to kill him!" The truth is, the moment I saw Phillip shielding that woman, a part of me wanted to storm out of the car and demand an explanation. But I never fight a battle I haven't prepared for. I wouldn't let myself be the one at a disadvantage. What if he'd already slept with her? If I stormed out then and there, all I would accomplish is becoming a spectacle for sympathetic onlookers before completely blowing things up with Phillip, leaving the third party to reap all the rewards. I refused. Even in a moment like this, I was weighing the pros and cons. "I need to find out who that woman is," I told Mia. She wasn't particularly beautiful, or even as young as me. In fact, she looked more like Phillip's older sister. And yet, for this utterly unremarkable person, I had seen raw pain and deep affection in Phillip's eyes. "I've already got someone looking into it," I said calmly. "I'm sure the truth will come out very soon." Phillip came home just before dawn. He leaned in to kiss my lips, his hand sliding up my waist, trying to slip off my nightgown. I grabbed his wrist, my eyes snapping open to meet his, which were clouded with desire. I wanted to ask him, Didn't she satisfy you? But I swallowed the sarcastic words and the nausea rising in my throat. I just frowned. "I don't feel well." Instantly, his expression shifted to one of deep concern. The moment his forehead touched mine, I was hit by a wave of perfume that wasn't his. The cloying scent was so overpowering that I couldn't control it anymore. I shoved him away, scrambled out of bed, and ran to the bathroom, collapsing over the toilet and retching until the world spun. "What's wrong?" Phillip's frantic voice came from behind me. "You were fine yesterday! How did you get so sick all of a sudden?" He placed his hands on my shoulders, and the touch sent another wave of revulsion through me. I heaved again, my eyes stinging. When the sickness finally subsided, I told him, my voice raw, to get away from me. Tears streamed down my face, hot and involuntary. My throat felt like it had been scraped with razor blades, making it painful to even speak. "Phillip, I just want to sleep." I ignored the flash of hurt in his eyes as he stood there, helpless. A part of me desperately wanted to lay it all out, to ask him what game he was playing, who this performance was for. But I couldn't. A cold, rational voice in my head reminded me that Phillip and I were too deeply entangled, our lives and finances woven together over the years. I had to be fully prepared. "I'd like some congee," I told him. My stomach has always been weak. To take care of me, Phillip had learned to cook, specifically my favorite Cantonese dishes, and he’d perfected the art of making congee. "As long as I'm around," he used to say, "I'll never let you end up in the hospital with gastritis again." Back then, those words were the sweetest promises. Now, they were knives, twisting in my heart, leaving me a bloody, mangled mess. I thought I was giving him an out, a simple task to perform. But he was stubborn. "We're going to the hospital first," he insisted. "If you're okay, I'll come back and make you congee." He brought me my coat. "But I have to know that you're really okay." 3 I went with him. Sitting in the passenger seat, I noticed a tube of lipstick that wasn't there before. Before I could say a word, Phillip snatched it and tossed it out the window. "A colleague came back with me, and I gave her a ride home," he explained, looking at me. "I couldn't say no. Honey, I promise, it won't happen again." The shade of lipstick was the same one the woman in the rain had been wearing. I nodded, not bothering to reply, and simply leaned back against the seat, feigning sleep. It wasn't a long drive to the hospital, but Phillip's phone wouldn't stop ringing. He kept declining the call, but the person on the other end was persistent. The incessant buzzing was giving me a headache. As he was about to decline it again, I opened my eyes. "You should probably get that," I said. I saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes. "What if it's something important?" He was out of excuses. He answered the call, his voice unnecessarily loud. "I'm with my wife." He was posturing. "This had better be an emergency, or I swear, you'll regret it." There was a long silence on the other end, then the sound of someone crying. I saw Phillip's expression change subtly. Before I could get a better look, he slammed on the brakes. My head whipped back, hitting the headrest hard. The world spun, and I nearly threw up again. "Honey, are you alright?" he asked. We had arrived at the hospital entrance. He unbuckled my seatbelt. "Let me get you inside first." His mind was clearly elsewhere. I didn't bother asking any more questions. When my number was finally called, I was about to follow Phillip to the examination room when I saw her. The woman from the rainy night was standing in the hallway, her eyes red, clutching her stomach and calling Phillip's name. Phillip froze completely. The sharp pain I'd felt before was gone. Seeing her show up here, I feigned confusion and asked Phillip, "Do you know her?" The woman stared at Phillip with a defiant look. His hand, which had been holding mine, fell away. He offered a clumsy, transparent explanation. "Honey, she's a client from the project I'm working on. She's not from around here." I hadn't asked who she was. But he kept talking. "She doesn't know anyone. I'll just help her with a quick check-up and be right back." He pressed the examination form into my hand. "Call me if you need anything." The woman's tears turned into a triumphant smile. She called out to me, "Hello, sister-in-law." I ignored her, my eyes fixed on Phillip. I threw down one last challenge. "You dare walk away and see what happens." "Phillip," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "If I tell you not to go today, will you still go? Even if I get angry? Even if I throw a fit?" We had made a promise to each other. If one of us was sick, that person came first. Nothing, no matter how big, was more important than the other's health. I wanted to know, right then and there, how much I still weighed in his heart. I saw him struggle. Then, his eyes pleaded with me. "Honey, don't make this hard for me." The heart that had been suspended in mid-air finally plummeted, shattering into a million pieces on the floor. I saw the woman shoot me a look of pure provocation. I had lost. Utterly and completely. "Go, then," I said, no longer trying to hold him back. I just watched as he walked away, glancing back every few steps to tell me, "Call me if you need anything." She had won, completely and utterly, just by standing there. I felt pathetic and ridiculous. Sitting in the doctor's office, looking at the ultrasound of a child who had arrived at the worst possible time, my eyes began to burn. The heat was so intense I almost cried out. The doctor advised me to keep the baby, explaining that my uterine wall was thin. If I went through with this, I might never be able to be a mother again. I stared at the black-and-white image, my heart still aching. A part of me wondered if I should forgive him, if I should give this child a family. But then I picked up my phone and saw a new message from Phillip.
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