"You’re just going to hang up because I called you out? If you’ve got any sense left, take the bus back tomorrow, and I’ll forgive you!"
I ended the call without another word.
He called seven or eight more times, but I muted my phone and watched the screen darken each time.
A notification dinged—his Instagram message.
"Fine! If you want to act up, go ahead! Spend the New Year alone! Don’t even think about asking me to pick you up!"
A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.
Before we got married, he’d rush back from his hometown just to watch a movie with me.
When I was afraid of the dark, he’d leave all the lights on for me when I was alone at home.
After we married, he always made sure to come home early.
But now, all of that seemed like a distant memory, long forgotten.
Just then, a group message notification popped up.
[Paula Keith]: "Dear uncles and aunts, I’ll be turning one on February 8th! Mommy is throwing a party at home to celebrate. You all have to come! Here’s some candy for everyone."
The profile picture was a pouting selfie of Paula.
[Ian Shaw]: "Everyone, let’s take this chance to get together like old times."
I froze. When did Ian change the group name?
When we first got together, he had eagerly added me to his high school group and introduced me to all his old classmates.
I never spoke in the chat, so he probably forgot I was even part of it.
Messages poured in: in—congratulations, blessings, cheerful words.
Each one was stung like a knife.
[Paula Keith]: "Thank you, everyone! My phone’s about to die because there’s a power outage at home. Don’t forget to come on the 8th!"
[Ian Shaw]: “Are you okay, Paula? Wait, I’ll come over to help you.”
My chest tightened, pain spreading with every beat of my heart.
My child was gone, but my husband was miles away, busy tending to another woman.
What a cruel irony.
Tears slipped down my face as I unlocked my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped on Ian’s avatar in Instagram and sent a message: “When you return, we’re getting a divorce.”
For a long time, there was no reply.
Of course. He was likely on his way to Paula’s place, just as he had once hurried to find me.
An hour later, his avatar finally lit up.
“?”
“Do you still think you’re some untouchable princess? Always threatening to break up, huh?”
“And have you even looked at yourself? Eight months pregnant—who would want you if you left me?”