My husband and I had been trying for a baby for three years without a single positive result. It wasn't until I took my daily folic acid supplement in front of my best friend—who happens to be a doctor—that the truth came out. She snatched the bottle from my hand, frowned, and crushed a pill into powder. "Grace, this isn't folic acid. This is birth control." I listened to her and sent the pills to a lab for testing. It turned out I had been taking contraceptives for three years. These pills were given to me by Julian. Every time before we were intimate, he would coax me into taking one, claiming it was for the health of our future baby. Just as I was about to confront him with the lab results, a message popped up in our mutual friend group chat. It was from Chloe. The image was a pregnancy test with two lines so dark they looked purple. [Hubby, let's make a bet.] [Do you think I'm carrying a mini-Julian or a mini-Chloe?] [I'm betting on a mini-Julian.] Two minutes later, she sent another message, pretending to be flustered: [Oh my god, wrong chat! Sorry everyone, please pretend you didn't see that.] I let out a cold, bitter laugh. The moral shackles I had placed on myself finally shattered. I opened an old email thread and replied to the one person I had never truly gotten over: [Wait for me. In one month, I’m coming with you.] The group chat fell into a dead silence. Eventually, someone broke the ice: [Wow, congratulations!] [When did you two get married?] [Why didn't you tell us? We would have come for a drink!] Someone initiated a Venmo pool for a "wedding gift." Others followed suit, sending money. Chloe sent two shy emojis. [Thanks for the blessings, everyone! Please don't make a fuss, just pretend it didn't happen!] [Nonsense! Even if we missed the wedding, we can't forget our friendship.] [Exactly! It wasn't easy for you and Julian to finally get together. We have to celebrate.] This group consisted of Julian's close college friends. After we got our marriage license, he added me to it, saying, "They're my friends, it's good for you to know them." When they asked who I was, Julian had simply typed: [A friend.] [If she's a friend, introduce her! Set her up with one of the single guys here!] Julian stayed silent, so I stayed silent. I remained a lurker in that group for years. Back then, Chloe had even snapped at them: [Don't act so thirsty every time you see a woman. If you want one, find one yourself.] The Grant and Foster families are both old money. Our parents always wanted a grand wedding of the century. But Julian always said, "I'm in a critical phase of my career. I don't have time for a small wedding, let alone a grand one. Let's talk about it later." "Later" turned into five years. I had long since given up hope for a wedding. None of Julian's friends knew he was married. And they certainly didn't know he hadn't married Chloe, the woman everyone called his "golden couple" match in college. The notifications kept pinging. My phone screen lit up the dark room. I stared coldly at the screen, my soul detaching from my body as tears fell one after another. I didn't know how to vent the pain and resentment swelling in my chest. For a moment, I hoped Julian would step in and say it was a rumor. But while everyone tagged him like crazy, the main character remained silent. Chloe accepted the money. [Thanks everyone! Consider it a welcome gift for the baby. Once the baby is born, we'll invite you all out for a party. You have to come!] It was clear. They intended to keep the baby. My chest felt tight, suffocating. I opened the window to let the freezing wind in. Standing on the balcony, gasping for air, I felt like my heart was failing. After the cold air numbed me, I calmed down. I took screenshots of the chat, saved them, and silently left the group. I was still sitting in the corner of the balcony, dazed, when Julian came home—earlier than usual. He pulled me up from the floor and closed the window. "Ideally, you shouldn't sit on the floor with the window open in winter. You'll get sick." I stared at him. He looked focused as he dusted off my clothes, but he felt like a stranger. Was he acting this way because he felt guilty? I flinched, dodging his touch. "Don't touch me." He froze, finally meeting my eyes. His look labeled me as unreasonable. He spoke lightly, "Is this about the group chat?" "Grace, before we got married, we agreed we were doing this to satisfy our parents. They are happy with the status quo, and I am happy. What aren't you satisfied with?" My marriage to Julian was devoid of love; it was a merger. Our families were long-time business partners. I went abroad for high school and college, while Julian stayed in the States. We barely knew each other. When I returned, our parents conspired to force us together. "Merging our families is the best choice for the business." "We paved a golden road for you, why do you insist on the dirt path?" "I'm telling you, I will never accept that boyfriend you have. Unless your father and I die." They cut off my cards, took my phone, and stationed bodyguards outside my door. I was forced to break up with my boyfriend, Liam, and succumb to their wishes. Before we signed the papers, Julian had said coldly, "We're comrades in arms. Let's just satisfy them. Don't take anything else seriously." I knew his heart belonged to Chloe. But I never expected him to cheat so openly. And to feed me birth control for three years to prevent a pregnancy. Even if it started as a sham, five years of marriage builds some form of attachment. To say I wasn't hurt would be a lie. To say I wasn't disgusted would be an even bigger lie. I asked him, "So, you want to keep this child?" I already knew the answer. Chloe wouldn't have accepted that money without Julian's permission. She wouldn't dig a grave for herself. Julian gritted his teeth. "Grace, I want a child." I couldn't hold back. I slapped him across the face. Everything became comically tragic. Laughter and tears burst out of me simultaneously. I walked into the bedroom and grabbed the lab report and my hospital diagnosis from the desk. I threw them in his face. "Julian, look for yourself." "The 'folic acid' you gave me was birth control." He suddenly looked panicked, shuffling the papers in his hands. His voice trembled. "Grace..." "You fed me contraceptives for three years, and now you tell me you want a child?" "If you wanted a child with Chloe, you could have told me. I would have helped you hide it from our parents. You didn't have to disguise birth control as vitamins and trick me into taking them." "I can accept a loveless marriage. But I cannot accept you destroying my body." Looking back at these five years, it felt surreal. Aside from the politeness, there were moments where we seemed like a real couple. When he was drunk, he would cling to me, calling me "Wifey" over and over. "Are you happy? I feel very happy." I would make him hangover soup, and he would pull me close. "Being with you is the best cure." At first, I thought he was mistaking me for someone else. But over time, I accepted it. He created little romances. He charmed my parents. "Don't worry, Mom, Dad. Grace is wonderful. Marrying her was the best decision I ever made." Even though I suspected it was an act, I had the illusion that fate was pushing us to grow old together. Even if we weren't lovers, we were family. But he was cruel. Cruel enough to watch me swallow poison for three years without a word. His hands shook as he held the report. His gaze drifted. "I was afraid you'd be sad," he squeezed out. "I won't give them to you anymore." Two sentences. No apology. No concern. Just avoidance. I scoffed. Was he afraid I'd be sad, or afraid that if he told the truth, he wouldn't get his way? Julian's selfishness and hypocrisy were overflowing. I felt sick. "Julian, you say that so lightly. Do you know how many nights I spent awake, anxious that I was infertile? Do you know the pain of thinking something was wrong with me?" I slowly took the hospital diagnosis from his hand and pointed to the results. "The doctor said I took too many contraceptives. My hormones are in chaos. I might be permanently infertile." "You only wanted a child with the woman you love. Did you ever consider that I had the right to be a mother too?" "Are you satisfied now? You don't need to drug me anymore. I can't get pregnant anyway." My voice choked up, my body shaking with sobs. "But we have no future, Julian. I hate you." After the lab results came back, I had gone to the hospital immediately. Reality was harsh. I couldn't escape the damage. When the doctor told me it would be difficult for me to conceive, I started hating Julian. Now, that hate had peaked. I locked myself in the master bedroom. My laptop screen lit up. It was an email from Liam. He had been waiting for me abroad for a long time. Since we were forced apart, he sent me an email every week. I wiped my face and opened it. Attached was a blurry photo of a black hole. [Observed a collapsing star today. Grace, how are you? Missing you.] [When I retire, to stop myself from becoming a sad black hole, I will come back to protect you.] [It's just too far away right now. Missing you breaks my heart.] Liam grew up in the UK and the US; he always had that dry wit. Over five years, his emails had piled up into a mountain. I backed them all up, afraid they'd disappear. But I never replied. I knew I was a married woman; I had my integrity. I thought he would move on. He didn't. I sat there, reading through the old letters. Memories flooded back. My phone pinged. Julian had transferred $10 million to my account. [This was my fault. This is your compensation.] When I realized that even ten million dollars couldn't quell my hatred, I knew I had to live for myself. I replied to Liam: [It's not far. Wait for me for one month. I'm coming with you.] Since the fight, we slept in separate rooms. I saw the guest room door open at night, empty. He was probably at Chloe's. I didn't care. I packed my belongings bit by bit, shipping them internationally for Liam to receive. One day, Julian bought me a gift—a vintage diamond tiara I had eyed in a catalog. He opened a bottle of expensive red wine and cooked dinner. "Grace, Grandpa's 80th birthday is in a few days. Can we call a truce?" For the sake of the families' "face" again. We were used to acting. "Sure," I said. Since Grandpa turned 70, every birthday was a massive event. We went to the most exclusive restaurant in Shanghai, filling the place with family and business partners. Before entering, Julian reached for my hand. I tried to pull away, but he interlaced his fingers with mine, squeezing until it hurt. He smiled, satisfied, and walked us in. Chloe was there, too. She was busy helping the Foster family with arrangements. The smile vanished from Julian's face, replaced by unease. During the meal, the inevitable topic arose. My mother and my mother-in-law chimed in. "Are you two tricking us? Married five years, trying for three, and still no movement?" "You two need to get checked." My smile froze. I thought of what Julian did, and tears threatened to spill. I lowered my head, wiping a tear with my pinky. Forcing a smile, I poured a glass of wine. "Come on, today is Grandpa's birthday. Let's not talk about this. To Grandpa!" My mother-in-law took the glass away. "Grandpa appreciates the thought, but you're trying to conceive. No alcohol." "Julian, you neither." Chloe patted her stomach, a sly look in her eyes. She placed my mother-in-law's hand on her belly. "Auntie, Grace isn't pregnant, but I am." The table went silent. She glanced at me. "I mean, you will definitely hold a grandchild soon. Maybe even two. Julian is healthy, just put your heart at ease." I glanced at Julian. His furrowed brows relaxed, looking at Chloe with love. Chloe poured me a glass of wine. "Grace, I probably scared you just now." "Blame my big mouth. Don't mind me." She raised her glass. "I want to apologize. Even though you're trying, you haven't succeeded in three years. One glass won't hurt, right?" I ignored her. She just stood there, holding the glass. Julian anxiously grabbed the glass from Chloe. "You're pregnant, why are you drinking?" "Grace, she's apologizing to you. It's rude not to drink." My mother-in-law wanted to speak, but Julian cut her off. "Mom, don't baby her." "A Foster daughter-in-law should have manners. Besides, Chloe is right. We haven't had luck in three years. One glass is fine. Why so nervous?" I didn't know where he got the audacity. I pinched my thigh to keep from screaming. Whatever. Today I leave. If I endure this, it's worth it. I forced a smile at Chloe. "I won't blame you. Even if this child is Julian's, I won't blame you."
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