After seven years into marriage, everyone around us is on our case about having a baby.

"Tick-tock, if you don't get on it, your wife will be in the maternity ward with the seniors!"

Ryan squared his shoulders, his voice steady. "It's not that I dislike kids, it's just... I'm unable to have them, ever."

Later, spotting him on the beach in matching outfits with a toddler, building sandcastles—laughter shared, child aloft, his smile outshining the sun—it was a sight.

That day, I figured I shouldn't hog the title Mrs. Collins any longer, so I left him the divorce papers.

He wouldn't sign, brushed it off saying the child was unplanned.

Next thing, the kid's mom drove into me with her car.

*****

For the first time in our seven-year stretch, Ryan missed my birthday.

He was racked with guilt, had even prepped an extravagant gift, and made sure our friends could make it, to make up for his absence.

Sadly, he was the one who couldn't show.

I gazed at the bespoke mini landscape cake he'd ordered, a tiny, perfect replica of our beach wedding.

So vivid, it felt like stepping back in time.

"Man, Ryan's really laying on the romance! He's not here, but he's pulling out all the stops!"

"For real, Hannah, it's been seven years and you two are still acting like lovesick teens. Spill the beans, will you?"

"You've gotta ring Ryan up! With this setup, he's got to be part of blowing out the candles, even if it's just over the phone!"

They were all pushing for me to call him.

The phone just rang out, no answer.

They urged me to try again, but I smiled and said, "He's overseas on business. Busy, plus there's the time difference. Let's not bug him."

They kidded me about being too understanding about his busy schedule.

But that wasn't the real deal.

I knew he wouldn't answer.

Just before, I caught a video posted by Sherry Zimmer on social media, showing a happy family trio on a beach holiday.

Sherry had briefly interned at Ryan's firm.

Her post read: [Jeremy's dad insisted we all tag along on his business trip. Looks like I'm coming too!]

Though she framed it as a hassle, her joy was palpable.

In the clip, Ryan was fussing with a sandcastle. When the toddler threw a tantrum, he scooped him up, both faces beaming, smiles competing with the sun's glare.

Ryan was too tied up vacationing to take my call.

Many envied our relationship and claimed it was rare for a couple in an arranged marriage to remain this enamored.

Ryan supposedly adored me so much that he didn't want children.

But that was just the surface.

In truth, he didn't want children with me.

It didn't hold him back from having one with the other woman.

Ryan rang the next day, inquiring about my birthday.

But he didn't return until three days later.

Hearing him at the door, I stepped out from the sunroom to see Ryan poised in the entryway.

His physique was striking in a crisply tailored suit, his smile polite yet detached.

Now he was worlds apart from the man I'd seen laughing freely on the beach.

"When did you get back? Why didn't you give me a heads-up?"

"If I told you, you'd have come to pick me up. It's chilly out, and you're not feeling well. Better to stay in."

I simply smiled, no reply.

Was he more concerned about my health or about me running into his secret wife and kid?

After a quick change, Ryan presented me with a bracelet.

"Hannah, sorry to miss your birthday. I made this myself, do you like it?"

I took and examined the bracelet.

It was clearly handcrafted with intricately woven shells and pearls.

Money can buy anything these days, but a gift made by hand? That's a true gesture of affection. Ordinarily, I'd be overjoyed.

But my birthday was shadowed by Sherry's video, featuring a market stall filled with similar handcrafted bracelets in the background.

I let him slip the bracelet on my wrist, but as he leaned in for a kiss, I instinctively pulled away.

Caught off guard, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"You've been on a plane all day, go freshen up in the shower." I gently pushed him towards the bathroom.

Seeing his face always brought back images of him and Sherry, intimately close, their affair clearly more than a fleeting mistake.

How else could they have ended up with a child?

While bringing Ryan his milk, he seemed engrossed in his laptop, oblivious to my approach.

"Looking at kids' clothes now?"

I peeked at the screen. There was a young boy modeled two distinct outfits.

Ryan accepted the milk. "A buddy of mine is thinking of launching a kids' line. Just giving it a look. Which do you prefer?"

I studied the photos. "The left one looks sharp, like a tiny gentleman."

He nodded, taking a sip of milk.

I didn't miss the slow smile creeping across his face.

That smile was his tell—it always appeared when he moved from anxious to at ease.

Maybe he hadn't expected that me, his official wife, helping his mistress choose outfits for their kid would be so exhilarating.

Just before entering, I'd seen a new post by Sherry, displaying similar photos online, trying to gauge if her followers agreed with the kid's dad's taste.

I leaned on the desk, slowly sitting down opposite Ryan. "Ryan, maybe we should have a kid."

His smile dropped instantly. "Hannah, we agreed on no kids."

"Maybe it's time to rethink that."

"Are you backing out on our agreement now? Look, work's crazy, I can't manage both you and a kid."

His words were icy, sending a chill down my spine.

We can't back out on our agreement?

He'd sworn there'd never be anyone else, yet here we were.

He had the energy for a holiday fling but none for his wife.