The phone on the dining table lit up.

Daniel was always like this—never cautious, never secretive, as if he were certain I would never touch it.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom. I braced myself against the sofa and stood up. My movements were slow, but my mind had never been clearer.

I tried a few familiar numbers.

Our wedding anniversary.

His birthday.

The date of our first date.

All failed.

In the end, I stared at the screen. My finger hovered for two seconds before I entered the date printed on Carla’s ultrasound report.

The screen unlocked.

I wasn’t even that surprised.

In his messaging app, her profile picture stood out unmistakably.

What was more bitterly ironic was that they were using the exact same couple avatar.

The chat history was overwhelming.

“I miss you.”

“Baby, when can we meet?”

“As long as I can see you every day, nothing else matters.”

I didn’t keep scrolling. Instead, I turned on screen recording.

Then I opened his shopping app.

The order list made me let out a silent, humorless laugh.

Prenatal supplements. Skincare. Cosmetics. Not a single thing missing.

The delivery address was always the same.

And the recipient was never me.

I took screenshots one after another, forcing myself to keep my breathing steady, afraid the baby inside me might feel my trembling.

After everything was saved, I carefully erased all traces and placed the phone back exactly where it had been.

When I returned to the bedroom, I lay down almost on my side. The night pressed in heavily, and my chest felt hollow and aching, as if something essential had been carved out.

Seven years of marriage—

it turned out to be nothing more than a stepping stone in someone else’s story.

The bathroom door opened again.

Not long after, his phone lit up once more.

Through the crack of the door, I saw him answer the call. In that instant, his entire body softened. He glanced toward the bedroom, then walked quietly to the balcony, closing the door behind him.

The sound of the glass sliding shut was soft.

But I heard it with absolute clarity.

At that moment, I didn’t cry.

Curiosity—thin, sharp, relentless—pushed me to stand up again. I held onto the doorframe and remained in the shadows, watching Daniel take the call on the balcony.

Through the glass, I couldn’t hear his words. I could only see his face.

It was an expression I hadn’t seen on him in a long time—relaxed, patient, even tinged with indulgence.

The person on the other end seemed to make a request. His brow furrowed briefly, as if hesitating. But not long after, he nodded, the smile returning to his lips.

In that moment, a chill slowly spread from my chest outward.

I turned away and dragged my heavy body back to the bed. The room was terrifyingly quiet, the air feeling as though it had been drained away, every breath suddenly laborious.

A few minutes later, he slipped into the room quietly.

One hand rested on my belly. The other brushed aside the loose strands of hair at my forehead. His movements were gentle—almost flawless.

“Baby,” he said softly, “something urgent came up at work. I need to step out for a bit.”

I turned my head and looked straight at him.

In that moment, I still gave him one last chance.

I spoke quietly.

“I’m not feeling well. Could you stay?”

As long as he nodded.

As long as he chose me—just this once.

Maybe then, I could still persuade myself to forget all the evidence.

The thought had barely surfaced before it was cut off by a calmer, clearer voice within me.

A kite with its string severed can never return to its original direction, no matter how carefully it is repaired.

Daniel showed a brief look of hesitation, then quickly returned to the tone I knew so well, gentle, steady, and firm.

“This project is really important. I have to go.”

“I’ll ask your mother to come stay with you, alright?”

My stomach churned as a faint chill spread across my skin. I nodded, my voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

“Drive safely.”

He noticed nothing unusual. He got dressed and left.

The moment the door closed, I opened my eyes.

Slowly, I sat up. Supporting my belly, I made my way downstairs and hailed a taxi.

“Maplewood Estate,” I said, my tone unexpectedly calm.

The car had barely stopped when Daniel’s vehicle came into view. I immediately asked the driver to pull over and park behind the shadow of roadside trees.

Through the window, I saw Carla almost jump into his arms.

Daniel caught her with ease. One hand rested naturally on her still flat abdomen as he lowered his head and gently tapped her nose, as if teasing her.

Instinctively, my hand moved to protect my own belly.

I took out my phone and started recording. My fingers trembled, but I did not stop.

On the screen, he opened the car door for her, settled her into the passenger seat, and carefully fastened her seatbelt. His movements were practiced and tender.

My eyes burned sharply, yet no tears fell.

“Follow that car,” I said to the driver.

Night flowed past the windows. Neon lights passed one by one. I gripped the window frame until my nails pressed into the wooden edge. The pain kept me awake and clear.

Endure it, I told myself.

Do not fall apart here.

The car finally stopped in front of Riverside General Hospital.

After paying the fare, I stepped out. The driver, who had been silent the entire ride, suddenly glanced back at me, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

“Miss, take care of yourself. For the baby.”

That simple sentence nearly broke me.

Since discovering the truth, I had buried everything deep inside, like swallowing a slow acting poison.

A stranger’s quiet concern allowed me to breathe for a brief moment.

I hid behind a pillar and watched Daniel.

Throughout my entire pregnancy, he had never accompanied me to the hospital even once. He was always too busy.

And now, here he was, registering for someone else, collecting medication, supporting her by the hand with patience and care.

Like a flawless husband.

In that moment, I finally understood.

He never lacked time.

He had simply chosen to give it to the wrong person.

And I, too, finally needed to make a choice, for myself and for my child.

The hospital lobby was flooded with harsh white light. It was noisy, crowded, and restless.

Daniel’s arm rested naturally around the woman’s shoulders, his voice soft and careful.

“The doctor said you should eat a little less these days. Walk around a bit, it helps digestion. Early pregnancy is sensitive, so do not push yourself. This time, let’s listen to the doctor, alright?”

She gave a dissatisfied hum, sounding spoiled.

“I know, I know.”

Then she smiled and added,

“It’s all your fault for buying so much food.”

“Alright, my mistake,” he said with a low laugh. “I care too much.”

She looked up at him, the corners of her lips lifting slightly.

“Then I’ll let it go this time.”

Their voices were light and natural, like lovers long accustomed to one another.

I stood not far away. The fluorescent lights washed my face pale. People passed by me again and again, yet not a single one noticed my presence.

As if, in their world, I had never existed.

Protecting my belly, I slowly walked out of the hospital.

It had begun to rain. The wind carried a damp chill that rushed toward me. Mist wrapped the street, and the lights were stretched into blurred shadows by the rain.

Through the curtain of rain, I saw Daniel take off his coat and drape it over her shoulders. He shielded her from the rain and helped her into the passenger seat. The movements were smooth and natural, as if he had done them countless times before.

She suddenly looked up, smiling as she grabbed his tie and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Daniel lowered his head and kissed her back. Rain slid down from the ends of his hair.

When they parted, he gently tapped her nose.

She laughed and tugged his tie again, biting lightly at his lower lip.

He did not get angry. Instead, his smile grew wider.

Before the car door closed, she rolled down the window. Her gaze passed through the rain and met mine for a brief moment.

It was a look of victory, completely undisguised.

“Olivia,” she said. Her voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly. “You lost.”

I looked at her and suddenly smiled.

Not out of sarcasm. Not out of stubborn pride.

I simply felt that everything had finally become simple.

“It does not matter,” I said to myself in silence.

“He is nothing more than a man.”

The car started, turned, and disappeared into the rainy night.

I stood beneath the hospital canopy and raised my hand slightly, as if waving goodbye to someone who no longer mattered.

“Daniel,” I whispered, “you no longer belong to me.”

“You are her choice.”

At that moment, I took out my phone and sent everything I had organized over the past few days to my mentor. The bank statements, chat records, videos, and photos were all included.

He was a highly respected divorce lawyer in the field.

I did not hesitate.

No matter how difficult the road ahead would be, I had to reclaim the initiative for my child.

Rain soon soaked the hem of my dress, yet I barely felt it.

My phone lit up again.

It was my mother.

“Olivia, I made you some soup and had it delivered home,” she said, her voice as warm as ever. “Where did you and Danny go? Why are you not back yet?”

Before I could answer, she continued, “You are so far along now, you need to be careful. How could Danny take you out so late?”

In that instant, all the emotions I had been suppressing felt as if a lid had been suddenly ripped open.

My throat tightened. My chest ached.

“Mom, do not worry,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steady. “We just went out to eat something simple.”

“It is raining outside,” I took a breath. “Take your time on the way home. Message me when you arrive, alright?”

I hung up before she could say anything else.

The moment I put the phone down, my tears finally broke free.

I made no sound. I simply stood under the canopy and let the tears run down my face.

The baby inside me moved gently. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my belly.

People passed by me without stopping.

Yet in that moment, I knew with absolute clarity that I was no longer someone who merely endured.

This rain was only the beginning.

That night, Daniel did not come home.

When my phone lit up on the bedside table, I was sitting alone in the dim room, the rain tapping against the window. I glanced down. It was a message from him.

“Olivia, I have to work overtime tonight, so I am sleeping at the office. The weather is getting cold and it is raining. Remember to close the window before bed.

I will always love you.

Your husband.”

I read it without any reaction.

In the past, messages like this would have made me anxious, worried, even driven me to check again and again whether he was safe.

Now, I simply turned the phone face down and did not reply.

It turned out that once a person truly wakes up, even anger disappears.