Despite being the father of my child, Charlie ignored all the messages I had sent to him and he even refused to answer my phone calls.

I stayed in the hospital for three days. During that time, not once had he ever contacted me. Only when I was on the way home, he finally called me.

"Where are you? Why aren’t you home? Pick up some chili peppers on your way back and be hurry about it," he said.

I parted my dry lips to respond, "Are you coming back?"

All I got was the sound of the call being ended.

So, I did not bring any chilly with me when I arrived. Seeing I returned home empty-handed, Charlie's face darkened with displeasure.

"Where are the chilies that I asked you to buy?" he asked. "Did you forget?"

Before I could respond, he irritably tore off his apron and said angrily, "Did being pregnant make you stupid? Are you having the memory of a goldfish? I could not believe you’re still holding a grudge at me over something so trivial like that!"

He headed for the door, but I stopped him immediately and said, "I can’t eat spicy food, so I didn’t buy any."

Yet, his steps did not falter. It was as though he did not hear me.

I collapsed tiredly onto the sofa and stoked my aching belly. The doctor had warned me that I could not have extreme emotional fluctuations, or it would slow my recovery.

In the beginning, Charlie and I had made an agreement that once the baby was born, we would get our marriage certificate and hold a wedding.

When he returned home, he was not alone. I was in the middle of taking some stuff when I saw her. I froze and at that very moment, I lost all the thought of marrying him.

Seeing my expression, Miranda shivered in fright and greeted me with caution, "Hello, Miss Jennings."

Charlie looked at me with displeasure and scorned, "Tone down your look. You’re scaring her."

Then, he got down to his knee and held Miranda's ankle. With one swift, practiced motion, he lifted her foot and changed her shoes. As I watched, I was fascinated and heartbroken at the same time.

Miranda then plopped onto the sofa and casually turned on the TV to find something to watch.

I furrowed my brows and followed Charlie to the kitchen.

"Didn’t she go out for sketching practice? Why is she back?" I protested. "Why were you helping her change her shoes? Don’t you understand anything about boundaries?"

Meanwhile, Charlie kept washing the vegetables. He did not even spare me a glance when he said, "She came back with me to grab something. She’ll leave in a couple of days. Why?" he asked. "Are you going to throw another one of your pointless tantrums?"

I choked back my words. An overwhelming sense of despair came over me. Then I asked, "So, in your eyes, am I nothing but a senseless, irrational person?"

He didn’t answer. He simply cast a cold glance my way before continuing his task.

I closed my eyes, tears slipping down my lashes. Yet Charlie acted as if he didn’t see it.

The reason he acted like this was because of what happened on our last trip.

A month ago, when I found out I was pregnant, Charlie was ecstatic about it. He immediately arranged for me to take early maternity leave from the principal and planned a vacation for the two of us.

However, when we were about to leave, Miranda said, "Wow, Mr. Peterson. You’re so lucky to go on a trip! I’ve never even left this city. How pitiful of me."

As a result, without a second thought and consulting me, he paid for her plane ticket out of his own pocket. Just like that, what was supposed to be a couple’s getaway turned into a three-person, teachers-student trip.

For seven days and seven nights, they acted like a newlywed couple. Charlie spent the whole trip taking pictures of Miranda and teaching her to find angles for her painting.

Meanwhile, I wandered the streets alone to go shopping and eat or was being the third wheel while trailing behind them.

In those seven days, he and I barely exchanged a few words. The trip ended with me being the only one feeling miserable. Afterward, Charlie laughed it off and gaslighted me.

"She’s just a young and innocent girl, why are you angry at her?" Charlie had said. However, he had forgotten that before Miranda appeared, those moments were ours alone, me and him.

After that trip, I gave him the cold shoulder for a day. Unlike before, he did not try to make amends. Instead, he left me alone in the apartment.

Now, here we were. I could not understand how someone could change so quickly.

As for Miranda, technically, I was her homeroom teacher before my vacation. Back then, Charlie would often come to my class to wait for me so we could eat or go home together. The girls in my class loved to tease me about our relationship and Miranda stood out among them.

She loved hounding me with questions. Her wide eyes would spark with curiosity when she asked, "Miss, Is Mr. Peterson a very patient man?" or, "Teacher, has Mr. Peterson told you when he’ll marry you?"

Now, it hit me. Had Miranda been targeting Charlie all along?

I blinked against the dryness in my eyes.

What about Charlie? When did he decide to let her into his world?

Charlie's cold voice interrupted my thoughts as he set the dishes on the table.

"Dinner’s ready," he said, looking at Miranda.

When his gaze fell on the bag of chips in her hands, he chuckled softly and walked over. Gently he tapped her head and scolded, "It’s almost dinnertime and you’re still snacking? You’re like a child."

Pouting, Miranda replied, "Well, I’m seven years younger than you, so of course I’m a child."

They kept on flirting as if they were alone. They did not notice my face went white like a ghost.

When he raised his body and looked at me, he only said indifferently, "Let's eat.

Even though he said that there were only two bowls on the table, one for him and one for Miranda.

Pressing my lips together, I quietly walked into the kitchen. The moment I opened the rice cooker, my hand froze. There was barely a spoonful of rice left. He had only cooked enough for two.

When I returned to the dining room empty-handed, Miranda tilted her head curiously and asked, "Miss Jennings aren’t you eating?"

I just shook my head without saying anything.

Meanwhile, Charlie peeled a shrimp brought it to Miranda’s lips and said, "Don’t worry about her. Just eat. Who knows why she’s always in such a bad mood?"

I inhaled sharply, unable to hold back my tears. My voice trembled as I choked out, "There’s no rice left. That’s why I didn’t bring any out. Stop blaming everything on my supposed bad temper!"

My voice was sharper than intended. It was breaking from the strain of my emotions.

Startled, Miranda shrank into Charlie’s arms. He shot me a cold glare and snapped, “Enough! You’re scaring her!"

Then he added, "Rose Jennings, you’re twenty-eight years old and a teacher. How can you be so emotionally unstable?"

After soothing the frightened girl in his arms, he got up and went to the kitchen. When he came back, he placed a bowl of rice on the table. However, it was just the brunt scraps that he scraped from the bottom of the rice cooker.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face as he muttered, "Uh, it’s not much, but it’ll do for now. I must’ve cooked too little."

I forced a bitter smile, too drained to argue.

There was no point mentioning the rice, there was also the fact that all the dishes on the table were too spicy for me to eat.

"It’s fine. You two enjoy your meal," I said, then turned around to leave.

Before I could go, Charlie grabbed my arm, his brows furrowed with irritation.

"What are you making a fuss about now? There’s half a bowl of rice right there!"

I laughed bitterly, my voice trembling as I pointed to the dishes on the table.

I explained, "I can't eat spicy food. You guys can enjoy your meal slowly."

When our eyes met, Charlie's grip on my arm tightened bit by bit and caused a sharp pain on it.

Miranda raised to her feet apprehensively and said, "Mr. Peterson, it's normal for Miss Jennings to be emotional. After all, she is pregnant. Maybe because I'm here she feels uncomfortable. I should be leaving now."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She seemed to suffer some grievance.

Charlie released my arm abruptly and turned to comfort her, "Why should you leave? It's her problem, not yours."

Only after a long moment did he look back at me, his expression hard as he said, "Can you just calm down for once? Do you have to ruin every meal?”

Then he grumbled, "I didn’t even know you couldn’t eat spicy food. Since when? Other pregnant women can handle it. Why can’t you? Are you lying?”

"That's because I had just a miscarriage …."

I instinctively tried to defend myself, but he waved a hand impatiently to cut off my words.

"Enough!" he interjected. If you’re not eating, just go for a walk and let us enjoy our meal in peace, alright?”

He sat back down again. His focus once again returned to peeling shrimp for the girl sitting next to him. Then he cautioned her with a soft voice, "Slow down or you'll choke."

I bit my lips. I caught the taunting look that Miranda gave me.

I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the house. I wandered into some random restaurant and ate something.

When I got home, I stood outside the door and my legs were as heavy as lead and I could not move at all. From inside the house, I could hear the laughter and the hum of a hairdryer sounded. Charlie must be drying the girl's hair again.

The engagement ring that circled the ring finger of my left hand suddenly sparkled and the light hurt my eyes.

The winter wind was bitterly cold and it turned my hands red.

I slid the ring off my finger and tossed it into the trash bin near the door. My gaze shifted to the engagement cutouts we’d painstakingly made together two years ago. With one swift motion, I tore them down.

If my earlier thoughts had been driven by emotion, now I understood clearly what was inside my heart. I was done loving Charlie and I did not want to marry him anymore.

After I stood in the blowing icy wind to clear my head, I finally keyed in the passcode to enter the apartment. However, the door would not open because it had been locked from the inside.

Frustrated, I banged on the door.

However, either my knocking sound was drowned out by the sound of the hairdryer or swallowed by Miranda's happy laughter, but no one came to open the door for me.

I squatted by the door, my legs eventually going numb. It was not until midnight the door finally opened.

Miranda gasped and covered her mouth in surprise when she saw me. "Miss Jennings! When did you get back?"

Charlie's eyes lingered on my pale face before he spoke, his tone laced with annoyance, “If you were back, why didn’t you just come in? Was there any reason for you sitting out here like this? Could this act of yours somehow make you feel better?”

My voice was hoarse as I walked past them, "The door was locked. I couldn’t get in.”

The odor of their reunion that stuck with them disgusted me. I ignored the fleeting guilt that crossed Charlie’s face and heard him say softly, “I’ll take Miranda home first. It’s late and it’s not safe for her to be out alone.”

I passed care and only hummed indifferently before heading straight to the second floor. All I wanted was a hot shower to warm my body and the comfort of my bed for a good night's sleep.

I was also too exhausted to dwell on the fact that Charlie was worried about Miranda’s safety but didn’t seem to care about his wife being in danger if she came late at night.

Nor did I have the energy to question what Charlie and Miranda did in the apartment, why the door had been locked, why they had been showering and drying hair together, or why their scents clung to each other.

Actually, the relationship between me and Charlie had never been like this before.