When I was four months pregnant with our second child, my husband Erick brought home a woman who was already seven months pregnant.

“Wren,” he said, “Tara was my brother-in-arms’ wife. He just passed away and left her and the baby behind. I couldn’t bear to leave them alone. Don’t worry, it’s only for a short while. Once she finds a place, I’ll ask her to move out.”

Soft-hearted, I agreed.

I never expected that “a short while” would turn into her never leaving.

Until yesterday.

Erick had gone to pick up our sick son from school. In the middle of the drive home, he suddenly called me.

He said he had left our son on the side of the highway and told me to go pick him up.

Worried sick, I rushed there as fast as I could—but I was still too late.

My son had been run over by passing cars on the highway.

No one had helped him.

He died alone.

I held his tiny, lifeless body in my arms and broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

I was about to call Erick to demand an explanation when Tara’s social media post appeared on my screen.

Her caption read:

“Just a stomach cramp, and with one call he rushed over to take care of me. A man who loves you will always come the moment you need him.”

In the photo, the two of them stood together inside our home.

My whole body trembled.

I dialed Erick, my voice shaking as I asked,

“So this is the reason you abandoned our son on the highway?”

1.

“Erick, let’s get a divorce.”

My fingertips trembled the entire time I typed those words.

The moment I hit send, I blocked him without hesitation, as if cutting off the last remaining thread tying me to the past.

When I pushed my son’s body into the cremation chamber, it felt as though half of my soul burned away with him.

After the burial, I dragged my numb body back to the home I knew too well.

I stood inside the doorway, one hand braced against the wall, for three whole hours.

The people inside felt no guilt at all.

The man who killed my son was, at that very moment, indulging himself in bed with another woman.

From childhood sweethearts, to classmates through college, to the many times he fell in love, fell out of love, and shattered his heart again—

Every time he stumbled, I held him up.

Every time he succeeded, I applauded him.

Everyone knew I liked him.

No one knew how much humiliation I had swallowed because of him.

I don’t even remember when I started loving him.

Maybe it was when he cried on my shoulder over that failed relationship.

Maybe it was long before that.

But all of that devotion led to this—

My son dead,

and he seeking pleasure in another woman’s arms.

After Tara left, Erick was devastated.

I confessed my feelings, and eventually we got married.

We met at five, started dating at twenty, married at twenty-six, had our son at twenty-nine.

Now he’s six.

I have followed Erick for twenty years.

For twenty years, my eyes never strayed from him.

For twenty years, I poured all my youth into him.

For twenty years, I gave everything, hoping one day I would earn a place in his heart.

But I was wrong.

In his heart, I was always the second choice.

He used to be my light.

Now he is the source of all my pain.

I’m carrying his second child, tiptoeing around him every day, afraid to irritate him.

I didn’t dare complain about the nausea.

I didn’t dare mention the fever the night before the prenatal checkup.

That day, I truly couldn’t hold on anymore and begged him to pick up our son.

And yet, halfway there, one message from Tara was enough for him to turn the car around.

A child of six—

smart, gentle, never once threw a tantrum.

He was abandoned in the freezing wind, and tragedy followed.

In the moment he left this world, he must have been terrified.

I don’t know how much time passed before the banging from the bedroom suddenly stopped.

A moment later, a soft and sickeningly sweet laugh drifted out.

“Erick, you’re amazing. So much better than my dead husband ever was. Thank you… for giving me such wonderful pleasure.”

“You’re amazing too. Looser than Wren.”

A dry laugh escaped me—more like air leaking out of a punctured chest than an actual sound.

But it was enough for them to hear.

Erick’s eyes snapped toward the hallway, sharp and alert.

Tara squealed and rushed to cover herself.

“Oh my, it’s Miss Wren. She’s not misunderstanding anything, is she? Erick, go explain to her.”

Erick came out in a bathrobe, looking as though my presence had interrupted his much-needed rest.

His brows furrowed deep in annoyance.

“You’re back. Why aren’t you resting? What are you doing here?”

My throat felt like a blade had slashed through it; the voice that came out hardly sounded human.

“That’s my question for you, Erick.

I’m carrying your child, and you’re in bed with another woman.

Do you even know what shame is?”

“Wren, don’t overthink it. Tara’s husband died. She hasn’t… enjoyed marital life for a long time. I was just helping her out, that’s all. Relax. There’s nothing more between us. You are my wife. You always will be. Don’t get angry, it’s bad for the baby.”

“Yes, Wren,” Tara chimed in sweetly, stepping out of the room wearing his shirt, smiling innocent and gentle.

“We’re only fulfilling physical needs. I promise I won’t affect your marriage. As long as he’s willing to take care of me and the baby, I’m already very grateful.”

“Really, I swear I will never steal him away from you. I know… the person he loves the most is still you.”

The kiss marks blooming across her collarbone were bright, raw, obscene.

I could almost hear the sound of my heart cracking open.

Facing the two of them, I was so stunned I couldn’t say a single word.

There were actually people in this world whose morals were this rotten?

This wasn’t a misunderstanding.

This was an insult.

A deliberate humiliation — dragging my marriage through the mud while forcing me to stand there and watch them flaunt their intimacy.

In that moment, the thought of divorce rose in my mind for the first time.

Five years of marriage, and I had never imagined we would end up here.

But that night, the thought kept returning, each time sharper than the last, slicing me open from the chest.

“Erick, I suddenly feel… you’ve become a stranger to me.”

My voice was as soft as a breeze, yet colder than ice.

I stepped back, as though retreating from a nightmare one footstep at a time.

Seeing my expression crumble, Erick hurried forward and grabbed me, babbling anxiously,

“Wren, don’t be like this. You’re overthinking. I was just helping her, that’s all. You’re the one I care about most.”

His touch made my skin crawl.

I jerked away instinctively.

“Don’t touch me.”

The words came out hoarse, almost a whisper, like I was pushing away something filthy.

“I feel sick.”

I shook off his hand the way one shakes off something rotten and decayed.

Then I turned and began walking toward the bedroom I once called my own.

He didn’t follow immediately.

From the stairs came Tara’s voice — soft, fragile, dripping with false kindness.

“Erick, you should go comfort Wren. I don’t want to cause any trouble between you two.”

“She just needs some time to calm down.”

Erick’s voice floated up, light and dismissive.

“She likes me so much. She’ll understand soon enough.”

That confidence — that utter disregard for my pain — made every step feel like crushing glass under my feet.

Two seconds later, he finally chased after me.

“Are you angry because I didn’t pick up our son? Is that why you’ve been giving me attitude?”

He sounded impatient.

“Why do you have to be so petty? Why are you making this so hard for me?”

Even when everything was his fault, I was always the one being blamed.

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Right. It’s all my fault.”

I didn’t even bother looking at him.

Erick froze, as if he had never seen me like this.

He lowered his voice, putting on a strange, undeserved sadness.

“Tara just lost her husband. She’s falling apart. I was afraid she’d do something stupid, that’s why I went to her. You’re both so sensible, aren’t you? When I go back later, I’ll make it up to our son… our son will forgive me, right?”

If he had spared even one second to think of his son…

If he had looked back even once…

If he hadn’t been so completely consumed with Tara…

Our child would still be alive, not gone in the freezing wind on the side of the road.

I stopped walking. I didn’t turn around.

I simply said,

“Erick, your chance is gone.”

Then I kept walking, unwilling to waste another breath on him.

But Erick suddenly grabbed my arm, his voice rising in panic.

“What do you mean ‘gone’? Fine, I was wrong! I’ll pick him up from school every day starting tomorrow, okay? Just… don’t be so cold.”

In that moment, he actually sounded desperate.

But it was far too late for that.

If our son hadn’t died in that accident, maybe—maybe—I might have forgiven him.

But now?

Forgiveness was no longer possible.

“Erick, let’s find a time to get the divorce done.”

The moment those words left my lips, I shook off his hand, as if finally waking from a five-year-long dream. Without the slightest hesitation, I walked straight out.

Erick froze.

He stared at my back as though he finally sensed something slipping irreversibly through his fingers.

His brows tightened, like he wanted to hold on to something—but in the end, he said nothing.

He simply picked up his phone and dialed his secretary.

“Tina, prepare the most expensive model car. Send it to the house. For my son… so he won’t stay mad at me.”

His tone was light, dismissive even, as if pacifying a stranger’s emotions.

He didn’t know—

our son would never open that package again.

I went into the study, pulled out the marriage certificate, and was just about to contact a lawyer when my phone suddenly vibrated.

It was the group chat his buddies had created years ago just to welcome me.

“Sis-in-law, congratulations! You’re finally about to give birth!”

“Great news, we’re heading to the hospital right away to celebrate!”

I frowned, thinking for a second that my phone had malfunctioned.

Then another message popped up.

“Wrong group, idiot! This is the big sis group. Little sis is in the other chat!”

Three messages withdrawn.

The screen went dead silent.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

A pressure spread across my chest, so heavy it stole my breath—then pain started radiating across my abdomen.

So they had another group chat.

A group chat built secretly behind my back—

to welcome Tara.

Those same men who always called me “sister-in-law” with such respect…

In private, they had already crowned her “little sis.”

It was absurd.

Cruel.

Laughable.

I stormed out of the room, only to run into a servant rushing toward me.

“Madam, you’re awake? The young madam suddenly went into labor early. Sir has taken her to the hospital!”

I let out a cold laugh.

“Madam? Young madam? Who gave you the right to call her that?”

The servant trembled.

“It… it was Miss Tara. She said sir already agreed. She’s also the mistress of the house. Just that… you’re the first wife, she’s the second—”

I didn’t let her finish.

I headed straight for the garage.

By the time I reached the hospital, Tara had already given birth.

The hallway was crowded with Erick’s buddies, laughing and cheering as if it were a holiday.

“Erick, I bet the big sis still doesn’t know little sis has already given birth!”

“Don’t mention the big sis. If she hadn’t thrown a tantrum, Tara wouldn’t have gone into early labor.”

Erick was standing beside a baby bassinet, gazing at the newborn with a tenderness that felt foreign—unrecognizable.

His fingertips gently traced the infant’s cheek, his eyes soft, overflowing with affection.

“Such a beautiful baby,” he whispered.

“Kind of looks like you, Erick.”

“Don’t say that. If Wren finds out, she’ll overthink.”

On the bed, Tara’s makeup looked untouched, flawless—more like she’d come for a spa treatment than childbirth.

She lifted her eyes toward Erick, voice soft enough to drip.

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks. Whether she agrees or not, I meant what I said. Your child will take my surname and be recorded in our Xiao family genealogy.”

Erick lowered his voice.

“We need to finalize the divorce first. It won’t be difficult.”

“You’re not worried Wren will get angry?”

“Once the household registration is done, I’ll just marry her again. She’s obedient—she won’t make trouble.”

He smiled, calm and certain.

“If she does, I’ll just hide it from her.”