Nausea rose in my throat. I turned toward my room, but my mother-in-law blocked my path and shoved me toward the kitchen.
"Don't think you can slack off. You've been married for years and still haven't managed to lay an egg. You haven't earned the right to be lazy."
She watched me like a prison warden while I chopped vegetables.
Thomas entered a moment later. For once, he handed me a pair of gloves.
"Hazel has a delicate stomach." His voice was void of warmth. "If the food isn't clean, she gets diarrhea."
He took the fruit platter I had just cut and carried it out to the living room.
"Professor is so amazing!" the students chorused. "He even helps his wife with the housework!"
My mother-in-law beamed. "My son is young and outstanding. Any woman who marries him should thank her lucky stars! If he hadn't settled down so early, he could have done much better."
"If I had met Teacher ten years ago, I definitely would have pursued him," Hazel sighed. "With such a good husband, I'd give him three children!"
I stood in the doorway, balancing a steaming dish in one hand and a stack of bowls in the other.
Thomas and Hazel were gazing at each other. The air between them was thick. Electric.
The ceramic burned my fingers, but a chill spread through my chest, freezing my heart inch by inch.
How many years had it been since he looked at me with that kind of tenderness?
I set the dish on the table with a clatter. "Eat."
The moment the bedroom door clicked shut behind me, the dam broke. Tears streamed down my face, hot and fast.
Three years ago, I was pregnant. I worked myself to the bone and lost the baby to exhaustion.
Back then, Thomas had held me, whispering, "The child isn't important. You are the most important thing to me."
Because of that sentence—*isn't important*—I had endured three years of ovulation shots and swallowed countless hormone pills. My legs had swollen until I could barely walk.
Yesterday, two pink lines had finally appeared on the test.
Today, I discovered my husband was cheating.
A knock disrupted my grief. Thomas squeezed into the room. Seeing my red, swollen eyes, he let out a long, exaggerated sigh and lifted the corner of his shirt to wipe my tears.
Just like always, when I was wronged, he hugged me from behind. His buzz cut grazed my neck, stubble scratching my sensitive skin.
"Mom's from the countryside, Elise. She doesn't know any better. Why argue with her?"