How could they pretend? This group was full of Ferry’s college friends—the same people he had introduced me to after we got married, saying, "These are my friends. You should get to know them."
Back then, when they had asked him who I was, he had simply said a friend.
[Introduce her then! Maybe one of us single guys will get lucky,] someone had joked.
Ferry had fallen silent. So had I. I had never truly belonged in that group. I had been an outsider, observing from the shadows. Back then, even Chindy had dismissed them.
[You guys act like you’ve never seen a woman before. Go find one yourselves.]
The Zach Family and my own—the Gardner Family—were both prominent and wealthy. Our parents had wanted a grand wedding, an extravagant celebration of our union. But Ferry had brushed it off. "I’m in the prime of my career right now. I don’t even have time for a small wedding, let alone a grand one. Let’s postpone it."
That postponement had stretched into five years. Eventually, I had stopped hoping for a wedding at all. It didn’t matter anymore.
Even now, his friends still didn’t know he was married. And they certainly didn’t know that he was married to me. Meanwhile, they all knew about Chindy—the woman who had once been his golden girl in college, his supposed ‘best friend.’
My phone buzzed with more messages, the screen lighting up in my clenched hand.
I stared at it, my vision blurred with unshed tears. My heart ached, but I couldn’t bring myself to cry. I had no idea how to process the pain, how to unleash the rage simmering inside me.
For a fleeting moment, I hoped—hoped that Ferry would step in, deny everything, call it a misunderstanding. But he didn’t. His friends laughed and cheered, tagging him relentlessly. Still, he remained silent.
Then, finally, Chindy sent one last message.
[Thanks again, everyone. Consider this a small meeting gift for the baby.]
[Once the baby is born, we’ll all get together to celebrate.]
"The baby will be born, and then we’ll invite the brothers to come out and celebrate," she said.
Their decision was made. They were keeping the child.
A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. I opened the window to let in fresh air, but it didn’t help. Standing on the balcony, inhaling deeply, the cold wind did little to ease the storm inside me.